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THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK 


CONTAINING 

Ipractlcal Ibelp to Ctrls on all flbatters relating to tbetr 
Material Comfort ant) Moral 


EDITED BY 

CHARLES PETERS 

<1 

Editor of ‘ A Crown of Flowers} etc. 



WITH OVER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY ILLUSTRATIONS. 




) > 
f O > 


PHILADELPHIA .* 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 

1888 . 







BY 





DEC 18 ’Wfti 


* « 

• t 

. * 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


In the preparation of the Girl’s Own Indoor Book —issued in connec¬ 
tion with the Religious Tract Society, of London—it has been the aim to 
gather into a convenient and attractive volume such needful instruction in 
the various household arts and accomplishments as it is indispensable that 
every one should be conversant with in order to attain to anything like the 
ideal and practical perfection of young womanhood. With this view a brief 
chapter on “ Girlhood ” by the author of How to be Happy though Married 
serves as an introduction to the practical topics relating to every-day life 
that form the body of the volume; following which will be found an elab¬ 
orate chapter on needlework, composed of a series of sections on the 
several branches of that art, by different writers; a chapter on musical 
accomplishments, vocal and instrumental, with directions for practice and 
study, by proficients in the various departments of musical culture; a chap¬ 
ter on painting, with instructions relating to oil-colors, water-colors and 
painting on china, silk and satin; a chapter on elocution; a chapter on 
health, with instruction in hygiene and some hints on surgery; chapters 
on recreation and etiquette; an important chapter on cookery, with ac¬ 
counts of that art as practised by various nations; a chapter on girls’ 
work in literature, with hints on the art of letter-writing, on essay- and 
story-writing, on the art of verse-making, etc.; a chapter on education, 
with suggestions how to improve one’s own education; a chapter on remu¬ 
nerative work—teaching, nursing and dispensing, drawing, painting, wood¬ 
carving, engraving and decorative art generally, with hints on the profes- 


VI 


AD VER TISEME NT. 


sion of music, the vocation of clerks, bookkeepers, etc., and on miscellaneous 
callings; a chapter on girls’ allowances and how to manage them, especially 
in relation to the art of tastefulness in dress; concluding with a chapter 
on the higher life and instructions for the best method of studying the 
Bible. 

It is believed that no attentive reader of this volume, whatever her pur¬ 
suits in life may be, can fail to be greatly benefited by its perusal, and it is 
published, in the language of the accomplished Editor, “ with the hope that 
it may help all in the Rosebud Garden of Girls—the most beautiful garden 
in all creation—to cultivate the graces of purity, retiring modesty, and 
Christian earnestness, so that by the strength of such sweet influences they 
may draw others, not to themselves merely, but to that Saviour who is the 
joy and strength of their own lives.” 


J. B. Lippincott Company. 






CONTENTS. 


+ 0 + 


FRONTISPIECE. Girlhood. Drawn by John C. Staples. 
INI RODUC riON. By the Editor 


CHAPTER I. 

GIRLHOOD. 

By the Author of ‘How to be Happy Though Married.’ 

Illustrated by W. J. Hennessy . ... . . 18 


CHAPTER II. 

NEEDLEWORK. 

Full-page Plate by M. Ellen Edwards. 

Plain Sewing. By Dora de Blaquiere. Illustrated by Fred. Miller ... 25 

How to Embroider in Crewels. By Dora Hope . ..36 

Outline Embroidery. By Dora Hope. Illustrated by Fred. Miller . *53 

Patterns for Knitting. By Marie Karger. 63 

Sock and Stocking Knitting. By Marie Karger. 67 

How to Re-foot Stockings. By Marie Karger. 76 

Double Knitting. By Marie Karger. 85 

Plain Darning. By Marie Karger.86 

Fancy Darning. By Marie Karger.. 89 












CONTENTS. 


• • • 
vm 


Swiss Darning. By Marie Karger. 

Patterns for Crochet. By Marie Karger. 

Wool Crochet. By Marie Karger. 

Drawn Work. By Blanche C. Saward. 

Button-hole and Satin Stitch. By Marie Karger 

Aprons. By Dora de Blaquiere. Illustrated by M. Ellen Edwards 


CHAPTER III. 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS : MUSIC. 

Full-page piate by M. Ellen Edwards. 

Singing. By Lady Macfarren.. 

Thoughts on Practising. By Lady Lindsay (of Balcarres). 

On Method in Teaching the Pianoforte. By Edwin M. Lott, Mus. Doc. . 

On the Choice of Pianoforte Pieces. By Ernst Pauer, Principal Professor of 
Music at the Royal College of Music ......... 

How to Play the Violin. By Lady Lindsay (of Balcarres). 

How to Play the Organ. By Sir John Stainer, M.A., Mus. Doc. Illustrated by 
A. Laby.. 

The Amateur Church Organist. By the Hon. Victoria Grosvenor . 

The Amateur Choir Teacher. By the Hon. Victoria Grosvenor 

How to Play the Harmonium. By King Hall. Illustrated by A. Laby 

How to Play the Harp. By John Thomas, Harpist to the Queen. Illustrated by 
Miriam Kerns ... 

How to Play the Guitar. By Madame Sidney Pratten, Teacher to Her Royal 
Highness the Marchioness of Lome. Illustrated by Isabel G. Brittain . 

How to Play the Concertina. By Richard Blagrove .... 


CHAPTER IV. 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS: ART. 

Full-page Plate by I. Giacomelli. 

On Painting in Water Colours. By John C. Staples. Illustrated by Himself 
On Painting in Oil-Colours. By John C. Staples. Illustrated by Himself . 


PAGE 

99 

io5 

120 

125 

131 

136 


145 

148 

154 

157 

172 

178 

184 

186 

189 

192 

194 

197 


203 

249 

















CONTENTS. 


IX 


How to Paint Christmas and Birthday Cards. By the Baroness Helga von 

Cramm. Illustrated by Herself .. 

How to Paint on China. Illustrated.. , . 

How to Paint upon Silk and Satin. By Blanche C. Saward . 


CHAPTER V. 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS: ELOCUTION. 

Full-page Plate by W. J. Hennessy. 

How to Recite a Poem. By the Rev. Canon Fleming, B.D., Chaplain in Ordinary 
to the Queen 


CHAPTER VL 

t 

HEALTH. 

Full-page Plate by Arthur Hopkins. 

How to be Healthy. By Medicus . . - . . 

Some Useful Hints on Surgery. By Medicus 


CHAPTER VII. 

RECREATION. 

What to do on Holiday Afternoons. By Ruth Lamb 
A Charade. By Ruth Lamb. Illustrated by Harry Furniss . 

Mrs. Jarley’s Waxworks. By Fred Miller. Illustrated by Harry Furniss 
The Physical Education of Girls. Illustrated by John Dinsdale . 

A New Ball Game as played in Japan. 

Verbarium. An Indoor Game 


PAGE 

269 

271 

280 


287 


290 

298 


307 

3*9 

329 

333 

338 

339 









X 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

ETIQUETTE. 

Full-page Plate by M. L. Gow, R.I. 

PAGE 

The Foundation of all Good Breeding. By Sophia F. A. Caulfeild • . 343 

Etiquette for Ladies and Girls. By Ardern Holt. 34$ 

How to Address People of Title. By Ardern Holt .. 354 

Bridal Etiquette. By A Clergyman. Illustrated by Marcella Walker , . 356 


CHAPTER IX. 


COOKERY. 

Full-page Plate by W. Rainey. 

The Chemistry of Food and Cookery 
Cooking and Digestion . 

Fried Potatoes 
French Recipes. La Friture 
Dough Nuts 

Salads in French Cookery 
Some French Dishes 
German Cookery 
Italian Cookery 
American Cookeky . 

Scotch Cookery 
Two Norwegian Dishes 
Some Swedish Dishes 

Some Egyptian Dishes, for Hot Weather. By M. A. Whately 
Australian Bush Cookery Recipes 
Some Miscellaneous Foreign Dishes 
Tinned Meats : Their Value to Housekeepers. By A. G. Payne 
Explanation of French and Other Terms Used in Modern Cookery 


. 3 61 

• 365 

• 376 

• 377 

• 379 

. 380 

. 382 

• 385 

. 392 

• 397 

. 4CI 

• 405 

• 405 

. 411 

• 413 

• 415 

. 417 

. 425 



















CONTENTS. 


xi 


CHAPTER X. 

GIRLS’ WORK IN LITERATURE. 

PACK 

The Art of Letter Writing. By Sophia F. A. Caulfeild. Illustrated by Davidson 

Knowles. 432 

How to Write an Essay. 437 

Literary Work for Girls. By An Editor’s Wife. Illustrated by Catterson 

Smith. 438 

How to Write a Story .. 444 

On the Art of Verse-Making. By the Author of ‘ The Truce of God,’ and other 

poems ........... ... 449 

Some of the Poetry We Read. French Metrical Forms. By J. W. Gleeson 

White. 457 


CHAPTER XI. 

EDUCATION. 

Full-page Plate by Minnie Seddon. 

How to Improve One’s Education . ........ 470 


CHAPTER XII. 

REMUNERATIVE WORK. 

Full-page Plate by M. Ellen Edwards. 

Work for All. Introductory .4§4 

Teaching.4^9 

Nursing and Dispensing.493 

Art. 496 

Music.' 5°3 

Clerks, Book-Keepers, Etc. . 

Miscellaneous Callings and a Few Statistics . • . . • . • 5 11 
















CONTENTS . 


xii 


CHAPTER XIII. 

GIRLS’ ALLOWANCES. 

PAGB 

The Wrong Way to Manage Them . . . . . . . . . 516 

Various Plans of Management.519 

Colour and Texture in Dress.. 523 

Dresses, Winter Cloaks, and Summer Mantles.526 

I 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE HIGHER LIFE. 
Full-page cut by W. S. Stacey. 


• . . 541 


How to Read the Bible. By Charles Peters 

Rules for Studying the Bible. By Canon Girdlestone 

The Practical and Devotional Use of the Bible 








CHAPTER I. 


GIRLHOOD. 



C 



SYMPATHY, 
























































































































































































































































































































































































































THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


CHAPTER I.—GIRLHOOD. 

HE time between school and marriage in a girl’s life 
corresponds to that in a man’s which is passed in a 
university, or in learning the work of his profession. 
Too many girls look on it as a mauvais quart d'heure, 
which may be dawdled through in an irresponsible way 
until they have a house of their own. Marriage repre¬ 
sents a home, a position; sometimes even less than 
that—a trousseau or a wedding tour. So they hasten 
through the years of adolescence as well as may be in 
order to reach the end of a wearisome task. 

And yet if the girl is mother to the woman—that is 
to say, if the woman will be what the girl now is, this 
time, which is essentially one for settling habits, cannot 
be anything less than the most important in life. It 
the girl spend it in thoughtless idleness and discon¬ 
tented trifling, the result will be seen in the character of the woman. It is well for 
any of us when our work is cut out for us, so to speak, and we have not to look 
about for a profitable way of passing the time; but this last is the miserable 
condition of many girls belonging to daughter-full houses in easy circumstances. 
What can they do between school and marriage ? 

When the financial resources of her father are slender, a girl is quite right to 
seek for some employment by which she may earn her own living, and perhaps help 
her brothers and sisters; but when this is not the case, let no feeling of quixotic 
restlessness induce her to rashly leave home. It may be her plain duty to remain at 
home, and she may be independent and pay her way quite as much as one who earns 
and pays current coin. She can pay her way by filling in the little spaces in home 
life as only a dear daughter can, by lifting the weight of care from her mother, and 
by slipping in a soft word or a smile where it is like oil on the troubled waters of a 
father’s spirit. What better remuneration can a father have for his expenditure upon 
his daughters than their laughter, good-humour, and sympathy ? ‘ The laughter of 

girls,’ says de Quincey, ‘ is, and ever was, among the delightful sounds of earthand 
most fathers will agree with me that their grief-dispelling wiles are far better than 
gold and silver. 

Those girls soon slide into uselessness, and drift aimlessly through their golden 
girlhood, who have no system in the ordering of their lives. We ought not to be 
chained to one system, but we should arrange our time so as to improve every 
precious moment, and find facility in the performance of our respective duties. 

C 2 














20 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


Especially valuable are the hours between ten o’clock and one. These should be 
occupied with study, music (if you really have a taste for it), or the learning of some 
useful art by which you could earn your living if required to do so. Would anybody 
be worse, and would not everybody be much better, if girls of all ranks were taught 
to do something so well that they could earn money if necessary? Habits of 
attention, method, and dispatch, acquired in the study of any fine handicraft or art 
lay a better basis for the character of a noble house-mother than the idle sauntering 
of common girl existence. The daughters of wealthy families need not rush into the 
l ibour market simply because they have the power to do so. Because they can 
engrave they need not be engravers, any more than they need become servants 
because they can dust a room or cook a potato. 

Usefulness of any kind may be kept in store, as well as used as current coin. 
There is such a thing as adult education, and we may learn from everybody and 
everything until the day of our death, so that nothing is more ridiculous than to 
speak of a girl's education being * finished’ when she leaves school. She need not 
keep up the routine of school work, but she may at least try to keep what she has 
learnt with much difficulty and drudgery. ‘ It is less pain to learn in youth than 
to be ignorant in age; ’ and, indeed, it is only the first steps to the Temple of 
Wisdom that are the painful ones. Every girl ought to ‘ make the most of herself,’ 
and gain accurate and general information on the subjects that interest intelligent 
people. Why should she give up study at eighteen, just at a time when, having got 
beyond the rudiments, the work of teaching herself would after some time become 
so enjoyable that it would in many cases be continued even after marriage ? When 
books are looked upon by a girl on leaving school as instruments of mental torture, 
she is stopping her education just when she has reached its most interesting phase. 

But mind and body are co-partners, and while cultivating the one a girl must not 
injure the other. In after life she will require all the health and vigour of body she 
can obtain from riding, swimming, tennis, rowing, and the gymnastic exercises which 
have now been made to suit girls. These games, if practised in moderation, and in 
suitable clothes, without lung-compressing corsage, will give a firm hand, a trained 
eye, a clear complexion, and the light-heartedness which comes of a body unclogged 
in its machinery. They will confirm health and perfect beauty. 

Girls who have been well brought up dress with simplicity ; they are occupied, 
but not preoccupied, with dress. Two young men, the other day, were heard com¬ 
menting, sotto voce , upon a girl who was attracting attention. ‘ Yes; very pretty/ 
said one, ‘ but entirely spoilt by that terrible hat trimmed with giblets! ’ The 
head-covering thus alluded to was decorated with an arrangement of a bird’s head, 
feathered neck, and claws. It is a great help to papa’s pocket when daughters 
make their own dresses and hats—as it is, too, when they undertake the elementary 
teaching of younger brothers and sisters. 

‘ What can I do to help mother ? ’ This should be a question with all girls. 
In a large and well-ordered home, the daughters supervise different departments. 
One becomes responsible for the arrangement of the kitchen and dining-room, and 
sees that the table is properly furnished with viands, and the economy of everything 
downstairs administered wisely. Another takes charge of the drawing-room or becb 
rooms. The next week, perhaps, they change employments ; and in this way their 
mother has time to read, to go out, to receive friends, and to take a well-earned 
holiday. 



GIRLHOOD. 


21 


We agree with Mrs. Warren in thinking that there is no household work such 
that a girl should deem it beneath her position to know how to do it. To scrub 
floors, scour saucepans, blacklead and clean grates, to black boots, to clean plate, 
to wash and iron—all these things may be done in a right or a wrong way, and it is 
only by learning how they ought to be done that a woman can teach others. 
Whether her destiny lies in the old country or in the colonies, her knowledge of 
home matters will be the greatest of blessings to herself and to others. Every day 
a young lady should do a little bit of household work thoroughly, so as to be a 
pattern of perfection to the servants, who are only too ready to be satisfied with 
half-done work or ‘ That’ll do.’ 

Daughter (home from school): ‘Now, father, are you satisfied? Just look at 
my testimonial. Political economy, satisfactory ; fine art and music, very good; 
logic, excellent! * 

Father: ‘Very much so, my dear, especially as regards your future. If your 
husband should understand anything of housekeeping, cooking, mending, and the 
use of a sewing machine, your married life will indeed be happy.’ 

All girls cannot marry moneyed men, nor can they be sure, in the uncertain 
conditions of modern life, but that men who are rich to-day may be poor and 
struggling in a short year or two; and, surely, these men have a right to expect that 
the women they place at the head of the homes they have, in many cases, toiled 
hard to make shall be able to teach servants to carry out their plans, or, if need be, 
to throw themselves into the breach, and, unassisted, carry on the household 
machinery without a jar. 

Nor is this incompatible with culture and accomplishments. Writing of 
university life for women, a scholar of Newnham College says : ‘ Nowhere have 
I heard it more consistently and reverently asserted that a woman’s true sphere is 
the home. Most of the ladies rather pride themselves on their domestic accom¬ 
plishments. Among my own contemporaries were some whose nimble fingers could 
wield the needle as well as the pen, and produce with equal ease a copy of Latin 
verses or a fashionable bonnet. Others could send up a dinner not to be despised 
by the most fastidious of College Fellows.’ 

As soon as a girl comprehends what duty really means, and attempts to do it, she 
first tries to do her work at home, and then looks out for work abroad. She does 
her best to relieve the indigent, to teach the ignorant, and to bring joy to the sad. 
There are benevolent societies established in every district to carry out these 
benevolent enterprises, and the directors are very glad to receive offers of help, and 
willingly give work to those who will undertake it. 

But all work and no play will make Jill, as well as Jack, dull and dispirited. 
There are ‘ between-times ’ when serious work does not call for us, or when we are 
weary of it, and for health’s sake must indulge in recreation and light employment. 
Because a life of pleasure is a life of pain, that is no reason why we should have 
no pleasure in our lives. Is not happiness as well as self-denial a duty ? A girl 
could not have a better guide on the subject of amusement than Mr. Ruskin, 
who says: ‘ Never seek for amusement, but be always ready to be amused. The 
least thing has play in it—the slightest word wit, when your hands are busy and 
your heart is free. But it you make the aim of your life amusement, the day will 
come when all the agonies of a pantomime will not bring you an honest laugh.’ 

We have heard of an Eastern custom which enjoined that on the day of her 




22 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


marriage the bride should sit all the afternoon with her face to the wall. If any one 
spoke she was not to answer. This was supposed to typify her grief at leaving the 
state of single blessedness. An English girl may not feel this poignant grief at 
getting married, but if she can make her girlhood happy by putting it to a good 
account, she will be able to wait in dignified tranquillity until the right man comes 
to claim her, instead of throwing herself away upon the first worthless person who 
desires to marry and make a woman miserable. 

When Mr. Wilberforce, years ago, was a candidate for Hull, his sister, an amiable 
and witty young lady, offered a new dress to each of the wives of those freemen who 
voted for her brother. When saluted with ‘ Miss Wilberforce for ever ! ’ she 
pleasantly observed, ‘ I thank you, gentlemen, but I cannot agree with you, for 
really I do not wish to be Miss Wilberforce for ever.’ 

We do not blame Miss Wilberforce or any other young lady for not wishing to 
be a ‘ Miss ’ for ever, but she ought not to disturb herself if other girls have been 
preferred before her, and she remain unsought in marriage. As to what she can do 
to make herself more attractive, it depends on the kind of man she wishes to attract. 
If, however, she desire a good, worthy husband, she had better use no art, but 
simply be her own natural self. Let her cultivate the powers of her mind, engage 
in good and useful work, both within and without the home, study to acquire 
practical knowledge of domestic affairs, and trust that, if it is most expedient for her, 
God, the best Maker of marriages, will send a husband worthy of her choice. 

E. J. H. 



CHAPTER II. 


NEEDLEWORK. 



THE BROKEN CONTRACT, 














































































































































CHAPTER II.—NEEDLEWORK. 

Section I.—Plain Sewing. 

WE look back to early days, we find that our first piece 
of knowledge acquired in the art of needlework was how 
to thread a needle. This is the case with all little girls 
who have an elderly relative residing in the house, and 
who, in all probability, gives them their first introduction 
to the beauty of service—for then they find that their 
young eyes can see to perform this office for the older and 
wiser ones. The first introduction in threading needles 

is best given with a coarse darning-needle, or even a 

bodkin, which is not so trying to the sight as a small 

needle. The cotton should be held in the right hand, 

the needle in the left, and it should always be remem¬ 
bered that biting the cotton is an extremely vulgar 
trick as well as most ruinous to the teeth, so that it 
should not be allowed. 

Although knots are only required for basting or tacking work, the method of 
making one may now be taught, and after that, provided with some long strips of 
paper, the lessons in the folding and turning-down of hems may begin. The paper 
should be quite even, and, for beginners, in the shape of a ribbon (the white edges 
of newspapers will be found suitable and straight enough for the purpose). A fold 

should be turned down on one side evenly, and then the same fold laid down a 

second time, of the same width as the first. 

This double fold forms what is called a hem, and the young learner must be kept 
at the work of folding hems until she can lay one down both quickly and neatly. 
The folding of corners should also be taught, so that they may lie flat and perfectly 
even. There are a number of other little things to be learnt, as the method of 
holding the needle in the right hand, the thimble on the second finger of the same, 
and the work laid over the first finger of the left hand; then the proper length of 
thread to be taken, which should be from three-quarters of a yard to a yard. The 
best cotton for a child’s use in beginning is No. 40, with No. 8 needles. There is 
no advantage in using very coarse needles and thread—quite the contrary—and 
there is no need whatever for breaking needles; the coarse ones lead to untidy work, 
and the breakage of those that are fine may be prevented by care in tuition. The 
needle is driven through the material by means of the thimble with the assistance of 
the thumb and forefinger. Any endeavour to force it through by means of the 
thimble alone is sure to cause a breakage. The use of the emery cushion, too, 
should be more frequent than it generally is, as the needle becomes dull and blunted 
in its passage through the hot and nervous little fingers which hold it. It must 
never be left in the work, as serious accidents may result from such carelessness, but 
taken out and replaced in the needle-case. 







26 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


To make the first stitch, point the needle from you, keeping the eye next the 
chest, and leaving out a small end of the thread, which must be carefully tucked in 
witn the needle under the hem before taking the next stitch; which latter should be 
made, as well as every succeeding one, with the point directed towards the chest, not 
towards the left shoulder, as children so frequently point it. If our little learner be 
young, or more than usually unhandy, it will be best to allow her to tack the hems 
down on the paper before hemming, or to use two pins, one before the other. Thus 
far we have been working with paper strips, on which much can be taught and 
practised, which will make each succeeding stage the easier to the learner. 

When the power of holding and guiding the needle has been fully acquired, strips 
of dark print may be used worked with white cotton; or the rule may be adopted 
of using strips of white calico, beginning by sewing with black cotton, and advancing 
to red and blue in succession, each change marking an advancement in the art of 
hemming. If alternate needlefuls of colours be used, the process of finishing off 
the old thread by leaving a short end and beginning the new in the way already 
explained, and tucking both neatly under the hem, will be clearly marked and neatly 
performed. 

The faults in hemming are summed up by a recent writer of experience as 
follows:—‘The upright stitches of a beginner caused by the needle being put in 

like a skewer, and pointed to the top edge of 
the hem, instead of to the left thumb, and also 
because the child inserts the needle just under 
where the cotton has been drawn out, instead of 
making a step forward.’ ‘Split hemming’ is 
another fault—z>., where the needle is not made 
to shine clearly through on the right side, but is 
actually allowed to split the threads of the 
hemming. material, thus showing scarcely any stitches on 

the right side, and, of course, being most in¬ 
secure, unpractical work, which will soon wear out. ‘ Straight hemming,’ showing 
a horizontal stitch on the right side, as in ‘ running,’ is also a fault, and to be 
avoided for the same reason. What is called ‘ single-thread hemming ’ is also 
much to be condemned. The correct shape of the stitch made may be exem¬ 
plified by a row composed of the letter ‘ V,’ half the ‘ V ’ being on one side and 
the other half on the opposite side of the material. Between the points of the 
‘ V ’ there ought to be four threads. 

The use of knots is also a great defect in hemming, and they should be strictly 
prohibited. They may be easily discovered by passing the hem between the finger 
and the thumb, with the edge of the thumbnail against the hem. The joinings of 
the cotton should also be noticed carefully, as careless finishing will speedily show 
itself here, and the weak places will gape and open in the wearing and washing. 
Other points to be noticed are the finish and turning of the corners, matching the 
seams in the hem, and the careless puckering of the latter through over haste and 
pulling the thread tightly. 

There are certain rules for the hemming employed on different materials, &c., 
which I must mention here, as well as the usual faults in performing the stitch. In 
hemming articles with four sides, make the hems on the opposite sides first, and 
then on the ends; the corners will thus be turned in pairs, or all alike. All articles 











PLAIN SLIVING. 


2 7 


to be hemmed should be, if possible, cut and turned to a thread. In hemming fine 
work with fine cotton, the thread should be pulled out very gently. In hemming 
angularly-cut articles, such as a half-handkerchief, the thread should be drawn rather 
tightly in performing the work. It is not necessary to hem muslin so closely as 
cambric or linen. When the hem is intended to be narrow, as in fine work, both 
folds should be equal; but when a broad hem is required the second fold should 
be made broader than the first in all thick materials, to avoid all feeling of 
clumsiness. A broad hem in crape, fine gauze, grenadine, and muslin should 
have equal folds. Hemming on coloured materials should always be performed 
with silk or cotton of the same colour, the sole exception to this rule being 
observed when there is a superabundance of a white pattern over a coloured surface. 

And now that we are upon the subject of rules for hemming, we shall do well 
to try and find out some common-sense rules to guide us in judging of work in 
general—in fact, some standard to work by. We shall find this in the best 
kind of work usually sold in shops. If work be good enough to sell, and wear 
fairly well, we may consider ourselves safe in believing it to be of the right standard 
of neatness, and we may teach it to our children. We will therefore take a 
nightdress of fair price, from 12 s. 6 d. to 15^.—well trimmed, hand-worked 
throughout, made at a first-rate City house, and of which thousands are sold in 
the course of the year—as our guide, and we will proceed to count the stitches in 
the inch, remembering that the person who made it was earning her living, and 
that the article produced was saleable, and in constant demand. The stitches 
run thus:— 

Hemming, from 9 to 10 stitches per inch. 

Stitching, „ 18 to 20 „ „ 

Trimming, „ 9 to 10 „ „ 

Feather-stitching takes the place in a great measure of stitching; the embroidery 
being put on with it, and the seams throughout are 1 run and felled’—not ‘seam 
and felled ’—and less attention is paid to either stitching or running by the thread 
than we have been accustomed to see. 

The number of stitches to the inch, as counted in the work and the samplers of 
the School Boards, are as follows:— 

Hemming, from 20 to 30 stitches per inch. 

Stitching, „ 32 to 36 „ „ 

Over-sewing „ 30 to 36 „ „ 

Judging from a little shirt that I once saw made by Queen Mary and ‘Good 
Queen Bess ’ for their infant brother, Edward VI., this about represents the 
standard of the needlework of that period; and we know that both these queens 
excelled in all kinds of needlework. But, of course, in these days it does not 
answer for us. It takes too much time and strength of sight; and we certainly 
could not do enough of it to make a living by it, even if we could sell it—which 
latter would not be of easy accomplishment. 

Another thing which must be taught with the first lessons, is perfect cleanliness. 
So beautifully clean is the work done for sale at present, that washing it has been 
given up; and it is merely ironed very carefully, and packed into boxes ready for 
purchasers. The work is all cut out by a machine knife, which cuts scores of 
chemises or nightdresses at once, and saves every morsel of stuff in a marvellous 
manner. So there are no jagged ends nor false cuts ; all is plain and straightforward. 



28 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


The next stitch on our list has been dignified with several names—‘ seaming/ 

1 over-sewing/ ‘ sewing/ ‘ top-sewing/ and ‘ a plain seam.’ The first does not 
seem to me a bad name, but ‘ over-sewing ’ or ‘ sewing * might be better, as the 
word ‘ seam ’ evidently applies, I think, to the finished work. However, so long 
as we know what is meant, the name is not of very much consequence. ‘ Sewing/ 
if I may judge from the testimony of an old book on needlework, was the original 
name. The old-fashioned and the wisest way of teaching children this stitch was to 
give them some patchwork to practise upon. 

Patchwork has several advantages on both sides—for the teachers and the 
learners. It is amusing and interesting, and as some children find needlework 
great drudgery, and detest it, it is well to make it pleasant if possible. It is not 
heavy for the small hands and tender fingers to hold (which find a long seam tiring 
and hard to grasp), and it has the charm of showing results quickly. There is 
constant practice in beginning and finishing-off the thread, and an industrious child 
will soon do credit to a painstaking teacher. 

The great thing in sewing is to teach the proper position of the work in the 
hands, and the correct way of holding the needle. 

Each edge of the material should be turned down, and no child should be taught 
to end upon two selvedges. Indeed, modern selvedges are so rarely even, and are 
so hard, that few seams look well even when finished by a good needlewoman. 
The two edges of the work should be placed exactly together, and should be either 
pinned at short distances, or slightly tacked together, to keep them even, and avoid 
1 puckering.’ 

Hold the work with the thumb along the side of the first finger of the left hand 
and round the end of it, keeping it in place with the thumb on the side next the 
body, and the second finger holding it at the back. Begin the work by putting in 
the needle on the side of the seam next you, and leaving out an end of thread, 
which must be neatly sewn over with the first few stitches. When a new thread is 
required, leave an end of it also, and sew it in with an end of the old thread on the 
top of the seam, not pushing them down between the edges. In finally finishing 
the end of the seam, turn it round in your hand, and sew a few stitches backwards, 
so as to make a firm finish. I think I need hardly repeat here that knots are highly 
improper in the use of this stitch, as in all others. 

The proper position in ‘ seaming ’ is to hold the elbow away from the side, the 
arm being in a horizontal position, so that the palm of the hand should face the 
chest, and the needle point to the middle of it. This position should be carefully 
taught, as puckering is the certain result of holding the elbow close to the right side. 

As much of the work as can be comfortably held should be placed in the space 
between the thumb and finger of the left hand, in order to prevent the weight of the 
work causing a drag on the part being sewn, and thus pulling it from its proper, 
evenly horizontal position between the thumb and first finger, and along the side of 
the latter. 

Care should be taken to avoid making a ridge at the top of the seam by taking 
too deep a stitch, one thread being sufficient at about three threads apart. 

No seam should be considered finished until it be flattened out, for which 
purpose the ivory handle of an old tooth-brush is a good implement, and its use is 
preferable to scratching the work along the top with the nail—a vulgar habit—giving 
rise to a most unpleasant sound, and spoiling the finger-nail. The work should be 




PLAIN SEWING. 


29 

laid flat on a table, when the flattener should be used. The stitches at the top of the 
seam should lie in a slanting direction, the needle being put straight through the seam. 

The hems of linen sheets, table-cloths, and table-napkins are ‘ over-sewn ’ as a 
rule, as well as the hems of linen p>illow-cases. The selvedge-joins at the sides of 
the skirts of nightgowns and chemises, and the right sides of the patches placed in 
old garments, are also done in this manner. ‘ Over-sewing ’ is always worked on 
the right side of the material. 

What are sometimes called the ‘double seams,’ viz., ‘sewing and felling’ and 
* running and felling,’ are now to be taught, and in preparation the raw edges of the 
parts to be joined must be cut perfectly even, and be free from all loose ends of 
thread and the jagged ends of ravellings. The object of both seams is to join 
together two pieces of calico, such as the sides of a nightdress or a chemise. 

Lay down the raw edge of one side in the same manner as directed for the first 
fold of a hem, then put it aside, and, taking up the other side of the calico, lay it 
down as you have done the other, and also fold it back again from you exactly at 
the same raw edge of the turn, so that the fold shall be double. Then place the two 
pieces together, the edges meeting, both turns being on the inside—wrong side to 
wrong side. Tack them close to the edge carefully, and proceed to ‘over-sew’ 
them. When finished take out the tacking thread, flatten the seam, and turn the 
material to the wrong side, where you should find a folded hem ready to fell down, 
which should be narrow and neat, to prevent the seam from being clumsy. The 
young worker must be taught which are the right and wrong sides of the work when 
the stitch is commenced. 

The ‘ run and fell ’ is begun in the same manner as the ‘ sew and fell,’ the edge 
of one side of the material being turned down once, as directed for the first fold of a 
hem. Then place the other side upon this fold a thread or two below the edge, and 
run them together. The running should be quite even to a thread, and immediately 
below the raw edge of the turn; if made too wide a thick seam will be the result. 
When the running is finished lay the seam very smoothly, and hem on the other 
side. 

I have found very few examples, if, indeed, any, of the ‘ sew and fell ’ seam in 
any of the first-class needlework of the day. The seams are all ‘ run and fell.’ This 
would have been probably considered slovenly by our grandmothers, but it has the 
advantage of being more expeditious, forms a flatter and softer seam for under¬ 
clothing, and if well executed is quite as strong as necessary. I have examined the 
seams of nightdresses done in this way after two or three years of wear, and found 
no stitches had broken or given way. It is probable that the prejudice that exists 
in favour of the over-sewn seams with the fell arose from the general use of linen for 
underclothing in past times. 

‘ Running ’ is a stitch which must be very evenly performed, the rule for working 
being generally to take up three threads on the needle and leave three, giving an 
occasional ‘ back-stitch,’ to keep the work quite firm. To finish-off in running, you 
take two or three stitches, and run the needle a few threads back before cutting the 
thread off. 

Our illustration shows stitching, or, as it is sometimes improperly called, ‘ back- 
stitching.’ It is always worked on the right side of the material, and may be called 
one of the decorative stitches in needlework. When I think of the fine stitching I 
have seen, and the sight that has been wasted over it, I can only be thankful that 





THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


3o 

the sewing machine was invented to save what we can never replace our eyesight 
any tampering with which can only be a source of fruitless regret. 

Stitching in modern underclothing takes a subordinate place, as ‘ feather- 
stitching ’ has almost superseded it, and the fronts and wristbands of shirts are all 
done by machine. 

Stitching is always done on double material, which should be tacked together, to 
keep it in its proper place. A thread is drawn out, to give a straight line on the 
material, wherever the first row of stitching is to be worked, using the point of the 
needle to commence it. The end thus found, it must be firmly taken between 
the thumb and first finger of the right hand, while the thumb and first finger of the 
left hand hold, and move on, the small gathers. As they are successively formed by 
the drawing of the thread, the open row of threads thus formed is used to stitch by. 
The stitch is formed by putting the needle back over two threads from that with 
which you work, and passing it under two threads before, making in all four threads. 
The stitches should be closely drawn, but not too tight. A thread left between the 
stitches quite spoils the appearance of the work. The fastening-off should be done 
neatly on the wrong side, where the new thread must be joined on, the needle being 
inserted two threads before the last stitch. 

This stitch is most easily acquired on canvas, and although considered by many 
people as the test of a good needlewoman, it is not difficult to acquire it. 

The difference between ‘stitching’ and ‘back-stitching’ consists in this: that 
in the former the needle is inserted in the spot through which it has been previously 

brought up, so as to leave no space uncovered 
by a stitch; whereas, in ‘ back-stitching,’ equal 
spaces are left successively between the stitches. 
The latter method is a careless way of sewing any 
coarse material strongly, yet rapidly. 

Sewing on tapes should now be learnt. They 
are placed on the wrong side of the hand and 
sewn on with small even stitches, and as far from 
the edge as the width of the tape. There are 
three methods ol sewing on tapes, none of which is wrong, so we have a choice 
in the matter. The first way is to hem the string round on three sides, and then 
at the edge of the band; fold it back, and over-sew it at the edge on the right 
side. The next method is to stitch it on upon the right side of the band with 
either two rows of stitching, or else the stitching is to form a square inside the 
tape. The third and last method is to stitch the end of the tape on, turn it over, 
hem on the two sides, and over-sew the edge. This is the old-fashioned method 
of sewing on tapes, and is, perhaps, the neatest of all. The cotton must be 
carefully fastened-off, and the needle run back under the tape, to make the 
thread-end secure. It is a neat way to hem the ends of tapes, but I fear few people 
take the time to do it. In regard to pillow-cases, where strings are used, and not 
buttons, hemming the ends should never be omitted. 

By this time our little learner has become tolerably proficient in the use of the 
needle ; she and he can thread their own; and, in case any difficulty be found in 
this, constant practice should be given to the little accomplishment until it can be 
done quickly. A large wool needle and coarse thread are the best to use, the 
thread not to exceed a quarter of a yard in length. For the use of schools, what 


















PLAIN SE WING. 


31 


are called ‘ threaders ’—thick needles with large eyes and without points—are 
made for the purpose of class-drill. They are inexpensive—about fourpence or 
fivepence per hundred—and are capital for the purpose. For home-teaching, a 
wool-needle does as well. But all children should be made to thread both their 
own needles and those of everybody else who may require their help. 

Practice in the use of the scissors should also be given, and little girls and boys 
may have many a quiet half-hour’s amusement out of this, if they have a teacher at 
home quick enough to seize the idea of combining instruction and amusement. 
Squares, half-handkerchiefs, or triangles, sexagons, and octagons; how to cut 
buttonholes, a dress for dolly, a sleeve, a coat, and all kinds of small bits of infor¬ 
mation may be given without fatigue. Old copybooks are very good to practise 
upon, and boys will be found to derive special benefit in after-life from this kind of 
patient, practical teaching. 

The first of the fancy stitches used in plain needlework is the ‘ herringbone 
stitch,’ which is used only for flannel, but must first be taught on canvas, in order 
to teach the proper measurement of the stitches, and their distances from each 
other. The meaning of the term ‘ herringbone ’ is that the stitch resembles the 
spine of the herring; and the same term is used in masonry. This stitch is also 
called ‘cats’ teeth’ in the West of England, and ‘witch stitch’ in Scotland. In 
some old manuals of needlework I find it dubbed ‘ economy stitch,’ because the 
cotton is all thrown up on one side of the material. 

In pinning flannel, care should be taken to see that both breadths go the same 
way—the ply, or hairy ends, of the flannel downwards. A little examination will 
soon show the right and wrong side of the flannel, as well as the right and wrong 
way of the ply. When you tear flannel across the breadth, you will see that one 
side has a longer or more fringy side than the other; and this is the side that 
should always be turned downwards. The Mist ’ or selvedge must be torn off before 
flannel is used. 

There are three, or perhaps more, methods of making the hems in flannel; and 
in teaching ‘herringbone stitch’ this should always be remembered. Also : i. Run 
the two breadths of flannel together, one a little below the other; and turn the 
longest side over the other, and herringbone it down flatly. 2. Run both sides of 
the seam together evenly, and open them right and left, laying them down flat, and 
then herringbone down the centre, over the join. 3. Run the two edges of the 
seam together, as just described, and open them; then herringbone down each 
side separately. 

The first method, unless neatly and carefully performed, may produce a thick 
and clumsy ridge ; the second and third seem the flattest and most workwoman-like 
method of executing the seam. In making the hems on flannel, the raw edge is 
turned down, and the herringboning is performed half on the breadth, and half on 
the hem. No knot should be allowed in making this stitch ; the new thread should 
be darned in a few threads, and so should the old, to finish off; and a back-stitch 
should be made when the last herringbone stitch is completed. 

This stitch is worked from left to right, and ought to be at least four or more 
threads deep. For the method of working it see the illustration. The appearance 
of the stitch is of a continuous row of X’s in regular order. The material should 
be held across the first two fingers of the left hand. The stitch taken up is always 
within the spaces left between the stitches. 



3* 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


This stitch is used for carpets, felts, druggets, and window-blinds; in fact, in 
any case when the hem would be made thick by twice turning down, tidy people 
employ the herringbone. 

The tendency of all modern ideas respecting underclothing is to dismiss gathers 
as unnecessary and unsanitary. Jn order to make all garments close-fitting, they 
are gored, and so made to fit, instead of being made looser with gathers. Nor is 
there any chance that, as time goes on, this tendency will decrease; for it is in 
complete accordance with the laws of healthful dress. 

But in spite of this revolution, it is not quite time yet to leave off learning how 
to ‘ gather.’ 

Gathering must be done, so to say, by a thread; but it is not a wise plan to 
draw a thread, as you do in stitching, by which to gather, as that, of course, 
weakens the foundation just when you are about to lay an additional strain 
upon it. For beginners, coarse calico is the best, and they should be taught to 
turn down the material, and crease it to the required depth; so that they may 
have a straight line by which to work. The stitches are taken with the greatest 
evenness, the rule being to take two threads for each stitch, and leave four be- 



GATHERTNG. 


tween; and work on the right side of the material. Many people think it a 
wise plan to gather with a double fine thread instead of a single coarse one ; so 
that if one thread should break, the gathers will hold together by the remaining one 
till they are sewn into a band. This is useful when working in fine muslin, or in 
babies’ clothes ; because, with the fine cotton a fine needle can be used instead of 
a coarse one, which would make holes in the delicate texture of the cambric or 
muslin. But for a beginner double cotton would be troublesome and discouraging, 
as it gets into knots, breaks, and pulls unevenly, in unskilful hands. Whichever be 
selected, the rule must be observed that the gathering-cotton should be stronger 
than that used on the other parts of the garment. 

Before proceeding to gather, the material must be folded in half, and then 
quartered; and even measured into eighths; because, if the garment be very full, 
the thread will not bear the strain imposed on it by the weight of the material. 
Make a mark at each place. The thread is gradually drawn up, and twisted round 
a pin, stuck in the material at one of the measured marks. Then comes the 
operation called ‘ stroking,’ which is performed with a long needle, or strong pin, 
with which each separate gather is picked out with the point and pushed gently 


























































PLAIN SEWING . 


33 


under the thumb of the left hand, which should hold it firmly, the steel needle or 
pin being held in the right hand. This will have to be done twice over, when the 
thread must be drawn tighter round the pin; and, lastly, the top of the gathers 
should be stroked, to lay them straight. No little care is needed in stroking, as in 
some cases it is done with such violence that the pin-lines fall into holes with the 
first washing. No noise should be made in stroking, as this is of itself a sign of 
the coming mischief. 

Before setting the gathers into the band, the latter should be divided into halves 
and quarters; and the gathers being a little opened into the size of the band which 
they are to occupy, the quarters and halves must be firmly pinned together, and the 
thread on which they were gathered is to be wound again round the pin, to hold it 
firmly. The right side of the band is the first to begin upon; the work is held by 
the thumb on the first finger of the left hand, and the gathers lying from right 
to left. 

The stitch used in setting-in is more upright than hemming; and one gather 
should be taken up at a time; and the band, if properly put on, should just cover 
the gathering thread. The wrong side of the band will require equal care, and the 



STROKING THE GATHERS. 


edges of the band should follow the same line on both sides. The stitches should 
not show through on the right side, and too great pains cannot be taken in the 
quartering, halving, and pinning. 

Perhaps it might be thought that there is no great difficulty m sewing on a button ; 
but there are three ways of doing it when the button is a linen one. The first is to 
make a ring of small stitching in the centre; the second to make a star of long 
stitches, crossing each other, in the centre; and the thud is a small buttonholed 
loop, such as is used for hooks. Whichever plan is adopted, a stem must be made, 
to enable the button to stand up through the thickness of the buttonhole. This is 
done by winding the cotton round five or six times between the button and the 
material. The end of the cotton is taken through to the back and run neatly in and 
out to finish off. No button must be sewn on too tightly. When this is the case, 
there will be a dent at the back in the material; and it is not unlikely that the first 
or second washing will bring off both the button and the stuff on which it is sewn. 

The making of the buttonhole is probably the most difficult portion of the 
instructor’s task. This should be taught on canvas first, and afterwards the best 
way of perfecting the learner in the stitch, and in making the knots exactly even, is 





































34 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


to use the edge of a strip of canvas or calico, doubled, and to work straight along 
the edge. 

The work is performed from left to right, the needle being brought out to the 
right side four or five threads below the raw edge of the material. The stitch is 
made by putting the cotton from left to right, under the point of the needle, and 
drawing the latter out, away from the person working, and keeping the hand upwards, 
so that the twist or knot may be all along the edge of the buttonhole. The latter 
should be cut by the thread, with the proper scissors, and beginners and little 
children should run a thread round the cut before working, to keep it quite firm; 
the great fear being that they may, in their inexperienced handling, pull it out of 
shape. When finished, a buttonhole should be straight, the edges wire-like and just 
touching each other. It need not, I suppose, be impressed on any one’s mind by me 
that the button and buttonhole should match in size. 

There are several methods of making buttonholes, all of which are correct, viz., 
two rounded ends, or one round, and one square, or else two square ends. A loop, 



BUTTONHOLE. 



WHIPPING. 


such as that made for a hook, is sometimes used to finish one end, but this seems 
neither pretty nor useful, as it will not prevent the breaking of the buttonhole at 
that end. The straight end should consist of nine stitches worked into the material, 
and the round end of nine stitches without knots, as if you were working an 
eyelet-hole. 

Loops for receiving hooks are worked in the same stitch over two or three long 
loose stitches, taken in the same holes ; these are used in dressmaking. ‘ Eyelet- 
holes ’ are made with a piercer, and are used for inserting cords and strings. They 
are worked round in buttonhole stitch, and the corners of underclothing, where there 
is any strain of extra wear, should likewise be edged with it, in order to give addi¬ 
tional strength. Ordinary eyelet-holes are simply worked over and over linen. 
Buttons used to be made, not bought; and they form still a part of the instruction 
given to children in Irish schools. They were edged with a row of buttonhole stitch, 
and were famous for their excellent wear. I have seen a set of buttons outwear the 
nightgown for which they were made : truly, a wonderful sight in these days of 

constantlv renewed buttons. 

•/ 

The running of a tuck must be done by very careful measurement, and the 
material must be measured from selvedge to selvedge, and laid down in a fold by the 
thread; so that a crease is formed. The tuck is laid down of the required size, and 
the running is made in the crease. The stitches must be very regular, and several 
may be taken on the needle at once. It is a good plan to take the measurements 




















































































PLAIN SEWING . 


35 

carefully on a card, and to prick holes; so that the creases may not be lost. The 
distances between and the size of tucks are generally a matter of fashion. 

. whipping the edge must be cut evenly to a thread ; and the frill, or material, 
divided into halves and quarters; three times the amount of the length of the piece 
to be trimmed being allowed for the fulness. The strip of muslin must be first 
hemmed, then halved and quartered; and for a beginner it is best to commence by 
sewing the strip on a piece of tape, as a firmer foundation for practice. 

Commence by rolling in the raw edge of the muslin very tightly with the left 
thumb upon the first finger of the hand, about eight or ten threads deep, and on the 
wrong side. In making each stitch, put the needle in on the right side of the frill, 
and bring it out on the wrong, pointing to the chest. Take the stitches evenly, and 
at such distances as to draw up evenly and easily. The gathering-thread should be 
very smooth and strong, and should be drawn up every two or three inches ; and the 
same length of the whip is sufficient to roll down at a time. When a new thread is 
needful, it must be taken at the halves and quarters. Draw up the fulness; and 
having regulated the halves and quarters with those of the material upon which the 
frill is to be sewn, commence sewing, holding the frill next to you; and be particu¬ 
larly careful that each stitch shall fall into the opening or groove of the whipped 
part. The needle must be kept in a slanting position. 

Patching I have left until the last, and also fine-drawing cloth; both of which 
arts are needful indeed to the home worker, and especially where there is a family 
of children. But the first requires much judgment in applying to clothes; for, as 
a rule, any form of mending is preferable to placing a patch where it will be visible. 
Working clothes may be patched, but not others, if it is possible to avoid it. 

In cloth the thin places should be carefully watched for, and strengthened by 
placing a piece of cloth underneath and felling or herringboning it down, round the 
edges on the wrong side. If the right should need darning, it ought to be performed 
as invisibly as possible. Sheets should be very early turned, the sides to middle, 
so as to spare the most worn parts. If the patches must be made, they look better 
placed along the edge of the sheet than in the centre. The thrifty housewife will 
avoid a patch, if possible, as showing what some one has called ‘ premeditated 
poverty; ’ but when required she will know how to put one in well and deftly. 

In patching linen, calico, or holland, the patch must be placed on the wrong 
side, not on the right; and should be, when possible, of the same way of the stuff as 
the garment. With flannel you must consider the right and wrong sides, the way 
the nap lies, and the selvedge. A flannel patch is entirely herringboned on; the raw 
edges are not turned in. Print patches must match the pattern of the material. 
The right side of the patch is seamed on, and on the wrong side the raw edges are 
overcast. 

The best method of fixing on a patch is to turn down the edge, then place it 
perfectly straight on the wrong side of the garment, and tack it firmly on. Then 
turn the garment over and cut out the worn place by the tacking threads which you 
have already put in. Leave good turnings, give a diagonal snip in each corner of 
the patch, turn the edges in, and tack them down firmly also. Patches may be 
seamed on the right side and felled on the wrong, or felled on both sides. The 
usual shape for patches is square or oblong. 

The knowledge of how to ‘ fine-draw * cloth is very valuable to the mother of a 
family, especially where there are boys. The edges should be pared quite evenly, 

D 2 







36 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


and the two parts which are to be joined should be held on the forefinger of the 
left hand, passing the needle, pointed from you, through the edge of one piece ; 
then draw it through, and, pointing it to you, pass it through the edge of the 
other. The needle should be set in at half the thickness of the cloth, the stitches 
drawn closely without overlapping. Continue in this way, taking a stitch on each 
side alternately, and when finished press the place with a warm iron on the wrong 
side—but if on the right, place a piece of thin cotton between the iron and the 
cloth, to prevent the iron from marking it. 


Section II.—How to Embroider in Crewels. 

Every girl in England must be familiar with at least the name of crewel-work ; most 
of them will have some specimens of it, either in th'e form of room-decorations or 
dress-trimmings. For those who have not yet tried this interesting and simple 
embroidery, and wish to begin, I propose to give some practical suggestions about 
it, treating of materials, stitches, etc., in this section, and in a future one giving some 
designs and suggestions for pieces of work. 

To begin at the beginning, then :—The intending worker must get suitable 
needles ; they are made on purpose, and can be bought anywhere at four a penny. 
The best way is to have a number of different sizes at hand, as the thickness or 
fineness required depends solely on the material to be embroidered; a thick needle 
used for fine close material would spoil the look of the work by the large holes it 
made, and a fine needle used on coarse, heavy stuff would cut the thread and very 
soon break. 

The thimble may appear to the inexperienced a matter of no consequence, but 
it is really necessary to have as smooth a one as possible, as if it be rough it will 
constantly catch in the wool, and make it ragged. A pair of sharp scissors should 
be provided too; and these are all the implements that are really necessary, though 
sometimes others are used. 

The colour of the wools is a matter of very great importance. I have frequently 
seen crewel-work of good design and excellent workmanship, the effect of which has 
been completely spoiled by defective colouring. Brilliant and decided colours must 
be avoided, and only those which will blend and harmonise well together must be 
used. For those whose artistic taste does not at once decide for them, I may say, 
as some sort of guide, though it is impossible to lay down rules on this point, that 
generally speaking, it is the old-fashioned shades that may be depended on for 
blending well together, and giving a subdued, soft tone to the work. The modern 
colours are usually so very bright and decided that, though pretty enough alone, 
they look most gaudy when worked in together. If there is any difficulty in buying 
the peculiar, rather faded shades which are sometimes necessary, they may generally 
be obtained by taking the bright shade most nearly approaching the one desired, 
and putting it under a glass in the sun until it is bleached to the proper tone. There 
is a great variety of greens; different shades of sage, olive, and yellow-greens may 
all be used, but blue-greens should be avoided; in blues those shades" known as 
i china blue ’ should only be used. In reds care should be taken to exclude 
anything approaching scarlet; the shades to be used are more like those called 




HOW TO EMBROIDER IN CREWELS . 


37 


* cardinal ’ than anything I can describe. A useful colour is ' salmon pink/ for 
blossoms, such as apple, peach, etc.; it is very pretty and artistic, and is quite 
different from the ordinary pink, which must not be substituted for it. 

Crewel wools are usually sold at one shilling per dozen skeins, though the price 
varies in different places. It is no economy to buy cheap and poor crewels, as the 
colours soon fade and the wool gets ragged in working; if a large piece of work be 
undertaken, it is cheaper to buy them by the pound. Those who have any difficulty 
in distinguishing colours by gaslight are advised to tie the different shades of one 
colour together; for instance, all the sage-greens in one bundle, and all the yellow- 
greens in another, etc.—it will save time and trouble in hunting about for the 
required skein. 

There is such an endless profusion of pretty materials suitable for working upon, 
that it is difficult to know what to recommend; but I think beginners should select 
strong, coarse-grained, rather stiff materials, such as crash, oatmeal-cloth, 
Bolton sheeting, etc., as they are less likely to become puckered in working. 
Puckering is, of course, caused by drawing the thread too tightly, and the 
softer the material the more liable one is to fall into this fault; therefore I 
advise beginners to make use only of the coarser stuffs till they have had a 
little practice. On the other hand, if the thread be not drawn tightly enough 
you lose that smoothness which is so essential to good work. As soon as 
the worker has acquired the happy medium between looseness and puckering 
she will find that there is hardly any material made on which she cannot 
display her art. The only difficulty is out of such a large selection to 


X—- 


jffirigEBKgt! 



choose the one most suited for her particular purpose. The best plan for any one 
who has not much opportunity for seeing new materials is to send for patterns 
to a good shop where they make materials for art-needlework a speciality. 

For a very large piece of work a frame is 
sometimes used, and is certainly useful to pre¬ 
vent puckering and the injurious habit of 
stooping over the work, but I myself have 
never found one necessary, even for curtains. 

If the work be found to be much puckered 
when finished, the best plan for smoothing it 
is to fill a basin with boiling water, hold the 
faulty parts over it in the steam, with the 
wrong side downwards, till saturated with the vapour, then stretch in a frame, or on 
a board, till dry. Another plan is to iron the work on the wrong side with a damp 
cloth between the iron and the work, but the first plan is the safer of the two. 

We now come to the stitches. There is, strictly speaking, only one crewel-stitch; 
but others are sometimes introduced, such as the satin-stitch and the French-knot. 

The crewel, or stem-stitch, is made in the same way as ordinary back-stitching, 
only that it is worked upwards instead of downwards. That is, having made a small 
stitch, pass the needle up through the material again, about the middle of the first 
one, at the left side, and close up to it. Then take another stitch a little higher up 
the work, pass the needle up again, at the middle of the second stitch, in the same 
way, and so on. The illustration shows the crewel-stitch as it should be when the 
design is only to be outlined. If the design is to be filled up, the stitch is precisely 
the same, only that it may be made rather longer. When the top of the design is 






























38 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


reached, turn it round and work another row, exactly the same, and close up to the 
first row. 

The satin-stitch, which is used for small flowers, leaves, and stems, is formed by 
simply sewing over and over the space to be covered, being careful to insert the 
needle on the outer edge of the traced lines, so as to entirely cover them, and making 
the stitches either straight or slanting, according to the shape of the design. The 
illustration represents a stem worked in satin-stitch. When this is used, there is, of 
course, as much wool showing on the wrong side as on the right. 

The French-knot is chiefly employed for the centres of flowers, or for fruit, such 
as the blackberry. 

It is formed thus : Bring the needle up through the work at the point where the 
knot is to be ; hold the wool down on the material with the thumb of the left hand, 
about an inch from where it comes through. Then, with the right hand, pass the 
needle two or three times over and under the thread, so as to twist it round the 
needle ; then insert the needle again, nearly in the same place at which it came up, 
and draw it and the thread through to the back, leaving the knot, of course, on the 

top. This stitch will be found quite 
easy after a little practice, and is 
very effective. The size of the knot 
depends on the number of times the 
wool is twisted round the needle. 

I have lately had the opportunity 
of examining a piece of tapestry 
presented by Christopher Columbus 
to the Cathedral of Carthagena as a 
thank-offering on his return from 
the discovery of America; it is a 
magnificent specimen, and covers the 
whole of one end of the edifice. 
The design is a representation of the fauna and flora of the newly-discovered con¬ 
tinent. Columbus paid for its execution with the gold he brought from America, 
and had it hung on the walls of the cathedral in the presence of Ferdinand and 
Isabella. It was very interesting to observe that the stitches employed are precisely 
the same as those in use at the present day, the design being worked in French-knot 
and satin-stitch, and the background in crewel-stitch. 

There are various ways of washing the work. One plan is as follows : Put a 
large handful of bran into warm water, and leave the article to be cleaned in it to 
soak, pressing it together every now and then, but not rubbing it. When clean, 
hang it up till nearly dry, and then stretch in a frame, or iron. Another way is to 
simply wash it with soap in tepid watei, into which a pinch of salt has been put; 
the actual work should onlv be very slightly rubbed, but the material all round can 
be thoroughly cleansed. Have another basin of clean tepid water ready, in which 
the work must be rinsed, then roll it up tightly in a dry cloth, and press immediately 
with a tolerably warm iron. This latter plan is the best in ordinary cases, but the 
whole process must be very quickly done, as any delay will cause the colours to run. 

For making an Antimacassar in Crewels, the following are some simple directions :— 

i. The material upon which the design is to be worked should be either canvas 
(called crash), or some nice-coloured cloth, say dark olive or blue-green. I should 














DESIGN FOR ANTIMACASSAR, 






















































































40 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


recommend a dark material, as showing up the design better, and looking richer 
when worked. 

2. The leaves should be worked with worsteds of nice tones, carefully keeping 
crude, bright greens out of it. Where one leaf overlaps another, get one of the 
leaves dark and the other light. 

3. The flowers should be worked in silks, as by this means a richer effect is pro¬ 
duced, and the flowers /<?//well against the leaves. Do not make the shading too dark 
in flowers. The chrysanthemums should be worked with yellow, and then heightened 
with dark and light pink. The Christmas rose is white, with yellow anthers and 
small green petals in centre of flower, the large white petals being botanically false 
petals (called the perianth). The flower when it is in bud is a delicate light pink. 

4. The veins of the leaves should be light if the leaves are made very dark, but 
dark if the other way. 

5. A few touches of green worsted should be put at bottom of design to represent 
grass, as indicated in drawing. 

6. The border might be worked in a golden crown if on canvas, turquoise blue 
if on olive green, and golden green if on blue green. 

7. Fringe might be put on top and bottom if required. 

Having described the different stitches used in crewel-work, and explained the 
manner of making them, I hope all my readers will have mastered these preliminaries, 
and are now prepared to act upon some of the hints I shall give them for the 
beautifying of their rooms and for their own personal adornment. And the first 
important step is to get suitable designs. For a beginner, all the minute details of 
the pattern must be distinctly traced, or the unhappy worker will find herself in 
hopeless perplexity as to whether certain lines represent a leaf or a bud, or are only 
an eccentric twist of the stalk. Some of the best workers I know do not trace the 
details of their designs at all, but only make a pencil mark here and there, to give 
them a general idea of the direction in which the pattern should go and the limits 
to which it may extend; but, of course, this requires a considerable knowledge of 
art, and even with that can only be done after a great deal of practice. I strongly 
recommend every one to make their own designs. This may sound rather formidable 
to those who have had but little experience in drawing, but with perseverance and 
care the necessary skill can soon be acquired, and the effect will probably be much 
more free and graceful than if it had been laboriously copied from a pattern. 
Before beginning, it is best, if possible, to get a spray of the leaves or flowers to be 
represented, and carefully study the shape and principal characteristics of each. 
Then boldly set to work, and though the first attempt may be a failure, the second 
or third will very likely be a brilliant success. 

It may naturally be asked by the uninitiated, ‘ What is meant by the “ con¬ 
ventional designs ” so much talked about nowadays ? ’ This is rather a difficult 
term to explain, but as it is an important one, I will try to make it clear to my 
readers. There is a story told of two Greek artists who attempted to out-do each 
other in lifelike picture painting. The day of decision arrived, and the two pictures 
were exhibited before a large assembly. One of them represented a bunch of 
grapes, which were so true to life that the birds came flying to pluck the fruit. The 
other artist had painted simply a curtain, but so closely had he copied the reality 
that his rival said, ‘ Come, draw aside that curtain that we may see your picture.’ 

Now, although nature may be imitated in painting so exactly as to appear 




HOW TO EMBROIDER IN CREWELS. 


41 


almost like the reality, this is impossible in needlework ; we cannot reproduce 
dther the natural colours or the forms and curves found in a simple wild flower • 
and the most servile imitation in needlework appears clumsy in form and gaudy in 
hue when compared with its living original. This being so, it is thought advisable 
by the best designers to copy nature only sufficiently to suggest the reality to the 
mind, modifying both form and colour, and attempting to bring both within reach 
of oui powers of imitation. This is what is meant by ‘ conventional design.’ 

For those who cannot be persuaded to try their skill, and prefer copying from 

paper patterns, some instruction will be useful as to the methods of transferrino- the 
design to the work. 

One plan is to pick holes round the outline of the pattern, pin it on to the 
material, and rub powdered charcoal well over it; when done, remove the paper, 
and the design will be found clearly marked through. Before shaking it trace over 
the lines marked by the charcoal with white oil-paint, ink, or coloured chalk 
pencils, the former being p erhaps 
the best, as it does not rub off 
easily; but it should not be used 
for any hairy material. When this 
is finished, beat or flap it at the 
back to shake off the charcoal, but 
it must on no account be rubbed. 

Another plan is to place a piece 
of black or coloured carbolic paper 
(which can be bought at most 
stationers’) between the pattern and 
the work; trace over every line of 
the design with a knitting-needle 
or any blunt instrument, and on 
removing the paper a clear impres¬ 
sion of the outline will be found on 
the cloth. It should then be inked 
or painted over in one of the 
methods described. In case of a 
false line being made with the oil- 
paint, the only way of removing it 
is to apply a little turpentine as 
quickly as possible. 

The favourite piece of work for beginners is an antimacassar. They can be 
done on any material, and a very simple design is quite sufficient for them. I have 
lately seen a charming one, a young girl’s first attempt both at designing and 
working. It was a straight piece of soft coarse linen, hemmed at both sides, and 
fringed at each end. The pattern consisted of a spray of wild roses, which is one 
of the easiest things that can be chosen; there were two or three full-blown 
blossoms, one or two half open, and some buds and leaves, with a small thorny 
piece of brown stem from which the spray sprang. 

The illustration (Fig. i) represents a branch of peach blossoms for working on a 
' chair seat or a cushion. The stems should be dark brown, the leaves light green, and 
the flowers salmon-pink, getting lighter at the edge of the petals, with yellow centres. 
















42 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Another new and very pretty style for chair backs is to draw the threads of a 
piece of coarse linen so as to form squares, and embroider each of these with a 
tiny spray or bunch of flowers, such as forget-me-nots or daisies. This fashion of 
drawing the threads improves linen and crash very much, giving it a light and lacey 
appearance. It may be applied to many other articles, such as d’oyleys and mats 
of all kinds. 

Now that Afternoon Teas are an institution, it is necessary to give some 
attention to the arrangement of the tea-table; and much thought and ingenuity are 
expended in the choice of pretty and suitable designs for the tablecloth and tea- 
cosy, which, of course, are made to correspond. The material generally used for 
both is either white or unbleached coarse linen, and where practicable a design 

should be chosen in which 
the colours will harmonise 
with the tea-set. For in¬ 
stance, at a kettle-drum the 
other day, where the hostess 
prided herself on her good 
taste, I noticed that the 
crockery was Japanese, with 
stiff red flowers on an ivory 
ground, and the tablecloth 
and cosy were worked with 
sprays of red japonica. If 
there is nothing specially 
characteristic in the china, 
any design of fruit or 
flowers can be used. Fig. 2 
shows one corner of a 
tablecloth worked with 
blackberries. The full¬ 
blown flowers are white 
with yellow centres, the 
buds a pinkish white. The 
berries should be done in 
French knot, and of dif¬ 
ferent colours, as though 
in varying stages of ripeness. Sometimes two threads of different colours are 
used together—for instance, black and red—which gives the effect of unripe 
fruit very well. Some of the leaves should be dark green and some shaded with 
warm reds and browns. The natural autumn tints of blackberry leaves are among 
the most beautiful we ever see, and reds and yellow-browns may be freely used in 
the imitation of them, of course supposing that the shades are well chosen. The 
latest fashion for tablecloths is to embroider them simply in outline, but of this we 
shall treat in the next section. The subject of tablecloths, however, would not be 
complete without mentioning the handsome ones which can be made of thick 
materials for ordinary use. One of the pretdest I have seen was in a lady’s 
boudoir, the hangings of which were all peacock-blue. The cloth, of a rather dark 
shade of that colour, was worked in each corner with a group of yellow daffodils 







HOW TO EMBROIDER IN CREWELS. 


and moon-daisies, and the centre was occupied by an elegant n onogram in yellow 
silk. For haid wear, tablecovers are best made of thick serge or cloth, which is 
very pleasant to work upon and wears well. 

I he room altogether was so prettily arranged that I think I cannot do better 
than describe some of the other charming things I saw there. A glass door, which 
led from the room into a conservatory, was half hidden by heavy curtains. The 
upper part of the curtains was quite plain, but they were held back, about three feet 
from the ground, by broad bands of the material, with an outline arabesque pattern 
worked in yellow upon them. Below the bands were tall, very conventional 
sunflowers, the work being continued quite to the bottom of the curtains, which, of 
course, only just touched the carpet, so that it gave the idea of the plants growing 
out of the ground. 6 & 

The mantel-board was worked on velvet, with little bunches of primrose leaves 



\ 


FIG. 3 . 


and flowers, the bunches being about six inches apart, and the velvet curtains which 
fell from under it had each a yellow iris with leaves and buds. 

The covers of the couch and chairs were also embroidered, and had a very good 
effect. Space will not allow me to describe all the other beautiful things I saw 
there; but I left the house fired with fresh enthusiasm for this style of decoration, 
which could transform an otherwise plain and unpretentious room into so charming 
and tasteful an abode. 

A few words of caution may be necessary to those who think of decorating their 
rooms on a large scale and composing their own pattern. 

For any large piece of work, such as a couch or a curtain, do not attempt 
to design it spread on a table. It is astonishing how different things look in different 
places; and you may be quite satisfied with your design while on the table, but 
when put into its proper place it will probably look small and insignificant For a 






















































44 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


curtain, choose as heavy a material as possible, to ensure its hanging well; and 
having cut it to the size you require, if possible hang it up where you intend it to 
be when done, before beginning to draw on it. If you cannot manage this, hang 
it over a door or screen and sketch in the design roughly with white chalk. You can 
then see the effect, and, as the chalk shakes off very easily, you can make any 
alterations you think necessary. Then take it down very gently, so as not to shake 
off the chalk, and copy it over with ink or white paint, according to the colour of 
the work. 

A novel and pretty style for a sofa is to have it covered with embroidered cloth 
or serge. Fig. 3 is an illustration of one worked on dark green art serge. The back 
has a design of grasses growing in water, with a couple of kingfishers. Along the 
front edge of the sofa water is represented by blue lines, with gold and silver fish 
swimming along it. 

If this is considered too fantastic, a very pretty design can be made of oranges 
or pomegranates. Trace a long branch of flowers and fruit on the seat, and either 
a smaller spray of the same or a bird on the head. If flowers are used for the head, 
a swallow or some other small bird can be worked on the back. Oranges require 
some care in working to make the shape look natural. Begin them in rounds, 
starting from the point where the stalk joins the fruit. Having worked straight 
round two or three times, and come back nearly to the stalk, slip the needle under 
the work to the other side of the fruit, and continue up that side, nearly to the top. 
Then slip the needle under again to the opposite side, in the same way as at the 
stalk end, and so on till the rows of stitches form a sort of oval; and, by the 
time you get to the middle of the fruit, the rows will be straight up and down. 
A little practice will soon enable the worker to judge when she has worked sufficient 
rounds, and having once decided that point, she will find them very easy and 
pleasant to work. It is better not to attempt shading oranges, unless you have 
a painting to copy from. 

Generally speaking, fruit of any kind is the most difficult design to choose; as in 
nuts and cherries, etc., there is the same necessity for making the fruit a natural 
shape, and the same difficulty in doing so, as in the orange. The worker, therefore, 
who has little experience to guide, and no friendly advice to direct her work, will do 
better to keep to the simpler and equally effective floral designs, until she has 
acquired sufficient confidence to enable her to undertake more ambitious work. 

I must now say a few words on the subject of art embroidery for articles of 
dress. Generally speaking, this is more used for summer and evening than for 
winter dresses, as bright flowers are hardly appropriate to dull and wintry weather; 
but dark dresses can be handsomely and suitably adorned with coloured leaves and 
berries. For instance, a plain, dark material might be made into a pretty walking 
dress, with a fishwife tunic, embroidered with either vine, blackberry, or Virginian 
creeper leaves, and a collar and cuffs to correspond. These leaves are mentioned 
because they all take such beautiful tints in the autumn; but there are many other 
suitable subjects which can be selected by the worker. Girls who have plain 
winter dresses of which they are getting tired might entirely alter the appearance 
of them by working a spray of leaves here and there, on the pockets, collar, cuffs, 
etc., even if the style of the dress is not suitable for embroidering in a regular 
border. Should any portions of the dress be beginning to look shiny with wear, 
arrange the pattern as far as possible so as to cover those parts. Dresses generally 




HOW TO EMBROIDER IN CREWELS . 


45 


give way in one or two places before the rest is half worn out, and we are often at 
a loss to know how to hide the shabby parts. 

Unfortunately, it is impossible for us to emulate the deacon described by 
Professor Wendell Holmes, and to have our dresses made like his ‘ Wonderful 

One Hoss Shay,’ so equally strong in every part that after a hundred years there 
should be merely— 

1 A general flavour of mild decay, 

But nothing local, as one may say.’ 

So that— 

‘ It went to pieces all at once ; 

All at once, and nothing first, 

Just as bubbles do when they burst.* 



In spite of every precaution, they persist in wearing out unequally, and the only 
thing we can do is to make a virtue of necessity, and as we hear of clever architects 
converting an ugly but¬ 
tress or arch necessary to 
the strength of the build¬ 
ing into an ornament to 
the whole by their skilful 
workmanship, so we can 
comfort ourselves with 
the reflection that the 
necessary patches and 
joins, though ugly things 
in themselves, if made 
the medium for a little 
tasteful embroidery, will 
really appear to be the 
finishing touches to an 
elegant dress, instead of 
the unsightly necessities 
of a worn-out one. Fig. 4, 
a small design of apple- 
blossoms, will look pretty 
worked here and there 
on a dress of rather light- 
coloured material. 

For evening wear any 
light material is used, even 
Bolton sheeting is often FIG - 4 « 

employed, though, without the addition of crewel-work, such a homely fabric would 
be quite inadmissible. One of the prettiest costumes for a dinner that I have seen 
was a long sleeveless polonaise of ivory beige, the skirt and sleeves being composed 
of pale blue satin or silk. The polonaise was ornamented down both front and 
back and round the bottom in crewel silks, with blue corn-flowers, wheat-ears, and 
fern-leaves, and the ivory satin slippers had each a spray to match. When short 
sleeves are worn, the long gloves, whether silk or kid, should be worked up the 
back to correspond with the dress. 
















THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


46 


Costumes for all occasions are similarly trimmed by enthusiasts for the revival 
of art-needlework. At a recent fashionable wedding the bride, instead of wearing 
the orthodox orange flowers, had her white satin dress embroidered with them, and 
wore the real ones only in her hair ; while her bridesmaids were attired in dresses of 
cream-coloured camel’s-hair cloth, made precisely alike, but each one embroidered 
with different flowers. One had wild roses and honeysuckle, another buttercups 
and daisies, with fern-leaves and moss, and so on. Amongst the bride’s trousseau 
was a very handsome-looking dress of black silk, much embroidered in silk crewels. 
Upon my noticing it she laughed at my admiration, and told me it was one which 
she had worn till quite tired of it, and yet it was too good to cast aside, so 
she had transformed it from old to apparently new, by means of a little taste and 
industry. 

It seems premature to think about summer dresses during our long and gloomy 
winter; but all who have not much leisure will do well to look forward a little, and 
employ some of the long, dark evenings in embroidering, in prospect of more genial 
weather. It is a drawback that the prettiest among light materials soil so quickly 
but if good and carefully-selected crewels be used there will be no difficulty in 
washing them. Some colours are more apt to run than others, and, unfortunately,, 
greens, which cannot be dispensed with, are amongst the worst. Be careful to buy 
only yellow-greens for washing purposes; they can generally be depended on to 
keep their colour, and china-blue and most of the reds and pinks wash well. It is 
a good plan to work in rather deeper shades than would generally be chosen, as 
then a little fading of colour will be of no consequence. For garden parties it is a 
pretty addition to the costume to embroider a piece of the material for a crown 
to the hat; the parasol, too, should be worked to match. This can be done 
by unpicking it at the spokes; then work a pattern on each separate division, on 
the outside cover only, leaving the lining untouched, to make the inside neat, and 
join the seams up again as before. Many people make their crewel-trimmings in 
strips, which can be easily transferred from one dress to another; but the effect is 
not good, though it is certainly less trouble. When a new dress is to be em¬ 
broidered get it cut out, fitted, and tacked together before beginning the design; 
with care you will find no difficulty in working over the seams, and when done it 
can be lined and finished off, looking neat both inside and out. 

Lawn-tennis aprons should be made of coarse holland, or something of the 
sort, with a deep pocket to hold the balls. Either a trailing pattern, or simply little 
groups of flowers, are suitable for them; they sometimes have a couple of rackets 
crossed on the breast, and a net, or smaller rackets and balls, on the pockets; but 
these do not look elegant, and a floral design is usually preferred. 

While speaking of aprons, I may mention that a winter dress which begins to 
look dingy may be brightened up wonderfully by the addition of a little apron. 
Make it rather narrow, a good length, and it should be made of crash, and edged 
with torchon lace, or, failing this, it can be buttonholed round with wool the colour 
of the principal flower. They are sometimes made to come high up on to the 
shoulder-seams, of course being hollowed out for the neck, and, if preferred, can 
be made much shorter, only the length of a jacket-body, and pointed or rounded 
according to the shape of the dress body. It is pinned on to the dress where 
required ; but the cuffs to match are generally made with buttons and buttonholes. 

Before closing these few hints on crewel-work, I have been asked to suggest 





HOW TO EMBROIDER IN CREWELS . 


47 


one or two more pieces of embroidery suitable for birthday or wedding presents. 
This depends so much on the requirements of each particular case that it is difficult 
to give any hints suitable for alb 

A very handsome present is a set of embroidered bedroom hangings; but of 
course this involves a considerable amount of work, and would hardly be undertaken 
by any but a quick worker. I saw a beautiful set of this sort amongst a display of 
wedding presents lately. The ground was pale blue serge, and the embroidery 
consisted of a broad band of large buttercups and moon-daisies, intermingled with 
every variety of grass and leaves. The valances and other parts which would not 
be seen very closely were worked more coarsely than the conspicuous parts, two or 
more threads being in the needle at once, and the stitches being made larger than 
would be allowable in finer work. The effect of the whole was charming, and the 
gift was more admired than many 
which cost three times as much. 

The greatest care is necessary to 
avoid puckering in curtains; though 
this defect can to some extent be 
remedied by the method described 
in a previous paper, still the 
curtain will never hang well, and 
the appearance of it will be much 
impaired. 

Probably, however, not many 
girls will wish to give such a valu¬ 
able present, and for them I should 
suggest a straight-backed chair, 
with an embroidered seat, or, if 
that is too expensive, a cushion. 

The accompanying illustration, Fig. 

5, would do for either, and is a 
most effective design, and the 
colours would not look out of 
place in any room. It might be 
worked on almost any material; 
darK green silk sheeting would do 
very well. The flower petals are 
pale yellow at the tips, getting darker, with a tinge of green towards the stem ; the 
cup in the centre of the flower is deep yellow. The little sheath, or spathe, as 
botanists call it, at the junction of stem and flower, is light brown, tinged with green, 
and the stalks and leaves are different shades of yellow-green, none of them very 
light. Stem-stitch is the only one required in the working of daffodils, so they are 
recommended for any one who has not yet mastered the more intricate stitches, 

some of which are necessary in most floral designs. 

The selection of the material for a new dress should always be made with great 
care Washable dresses are, of course, better for household work, cleanliness being 
all-important; but in our best dresses a more expensive fabric is desirable. All 
woollen materials and cashmeres are preferred to silks and satins being softer to 
the touch, more harmonious in colour, and easily growing, as it were, to the nguie, 



FIG. 5. 












4 s 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 



and nothing can exceed the 
beauty of the folds of a woollen 
fabric. Silk, and more especi¬ 
ally satin, are harsher, and, 
having a glazy surface, catch 
the glare of the light somewhat 
disagreeably. Neither do they 
fall so gracefully as woollen 
garments, the folds of silk and 
satin more resembling crumpled 
paper. Velvet and plush are 
handsome, though somewhat 
heavy and hot-looking, and 
are, perhaps, more fitted for the 
matron than the maiden. 

Dress should always be 
suitable to the position of life 
we occupy, and also appropriate 
to the duties we have to per¬ 
form. It would be as inappro¬ 
priate in a housemaid to wear 
velvet as for the daughter of the 
house to perform her domestic 
duties in satin. A simple dress 
should be ornamented with 
other materials, such as lace or 
embroidery; or, as a designer 
would say, by surface, rather 
than constructive, decoration. 
For instance, if, instead of a 
frill or flounce attached to the 
dress, we worked a border of 
embroidery upon the dress 
itself, we should thus beautify 
the surface without altering its 
shape. And, as most girls 
nowadays can embroider in 
crewels, we present our readers 
with a few illustrations of speci¬ 
ally-executed designs. These 
designs are drawn the sizes 
they might be worked, though 
they can easily be enlarged by 
the usual method, and can be 
executed in either silk or 
crewels. Without going so far 
as to say that embroidery is the 
only legitimate kind of dress 
decoration, it is, nevertheless, 
































HOW TO EMBROIDER IN CREWELS. 


49 


one of the most appropriate 
and at the same time most beau¬ 
tiful. Among the many advan¬ 
tages it possesses over other 
trimmings may be mentioned— 
i, it can be worked on parts of 
the dress where other trimmings 
would be out of place; 2, it 
gives a girl scope for originality, 
as she can work her own designs 
and arrange the colouring to 
suit her taste and her dress; 
3, it gives individuality to a 
garment, for, if all girls worked 
their own embroidery, no two 
dresses would be alike; even if 
the designs used were the same, 
the colouring could be different; 
while a girl with any invention 
could always design her own. As 
embroidery for dresses generally 
takes the form of borders we have 
given some designs of various 
widths and styles, suitable for all 
parts of the dress, and which 
we here proceed to describe. 

Fig. 6 is founded upon the 
common passion-flower, and can 
easily be made continuous, the 
position of the second flower 
being shown at the edge of the 
design; the work between the 
third and fourth flower being 
merely a repetition of this illus¬ 
tration, and so on to any length. 
All these designs should be 
traced on tracing paper and 
pricked on the wrong side. 
Then, with some powdered char¬ 
coal, in a piece of muslin or old 
stocking, if on a light material, 
or chalk if on a dark one, the 
design, on the right side, should 
be gone over, and the powder 
passing through the holes will 
leave an impression, which must 
be marked over with a brush 
and Indian ink or Chinese white 
to fix the design upon the mate¬ 
rial to be worked. 





'iss&S 




iigt 




Wmi 




3 ? 


Wnm 


ilii 


f \ 

yfmm 




mass 


FIG. 7.—WILD. CLEMATIS. 


E 






























FIG. 8.—HONEYSUCKLE 



































HOW TO EMBROIDER IN CREWELS. 


51 




FIG. 9.— BRYONY. 


The petals of the passion-flower are creamy white, the five smaller petals being 
somewhat greener in tone ; the centre of flower purple, stamens and pistil yellow ; the 
leaves are a warm green; the bud reddish pink, inclining to cream. The tendrils of 
the plant will be found to give delicacy to the design, and should be lighter than 
the leaves. This design would be more effective on a dark than on a light ground. 

Fig. 7 is founded on the wild clematis, or traveller’s joy, as it is commonly called. 
It is very delicate in 
form, and would do for 
either a light or dark 
ground. The flowers 
are creamy white; the 
stamens, which are very 
numerous, as will be 
seen, are greenish yel¬ 
low in tone; buds, same 
colour as stamens; 
leaves, yellowish green; 
stems, slightly brown. 

In making a continu¬ 
ous design, it will be 
necessary to run a main stem at the back of the foliage, towards the lower part 
of the design, to connect one section with another. 

Fig. 8 would make an exceedingly handsome border for the front of a dress, and 
would be effective worked on a cream-coloured ground, though a dark one would 
look perhaps as well. Every one will recognise it as the honeysuckle, a plant 
frequently introduced by the Greeks into their architecture. The opened flowers 
are creamy white, inclining to pink. The buds are a delicate warm pink, such as 
would be produced in 
painting by glazing a 
wash of yellow with 
one of rose pink. The 
smaller buds are deeper 
pink, as the flower 
lightens as it arrives at 
maturity. The peculiar 
oval leaf growing at 
the base of the flowers 
should be a nice green, 
rather darker than the 
rest of the leaves. The 
flower stems are green, 
while the main stem at back might be brown-green. This pattern can be made 
continuous by reversing every alternate section, so th it the two unopened flowers 
growing together will come first on the right-hand of the design, and then on the 
left, and so on. 

Fig. 9 requires little comment. It is drawn from the bryony, one of our 
familiar creeping plants. Here, again, the tendrils form a great feature. . This 
plant changes to the most beautiful shades of yellow in the autumn, and with its 

r 0 E 2 


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FIG. II.—SPRIGS FOR 


CREWEL EMBROIDERY. 


































































OUTLINE EMBROIDERY. 


53 


orange berries is full of suggestion to the designer. It would look effective on a 
dark red or brown material. 

Fig. io is merely a conventional border, and can, therefore, be worked in any 
colours. Tones of yellow and brown, white and yellow-green, blue and olive, would 
all be suitable, according to the material. 

Fig. n is given more as a suggestion of how plants may be treated in crewel 
work. It is intended to show how to draw ‘ sprigs/ as they are usually termed, 
to ‘powder’ over a surface, very much after the fashion of the Pompadour dresses. 
An apron, the body, or the entire front of a dress could be treated in this way, 
providing the colouring be harmonious and the work delicate. The flowers used as 
‘ sprigs ’ in Fig. 11 are familiar ones, comprising, as they do, the hepatica, wood- 
sorrel, or shamrock, water buttercup, lesser celandine, and dog-rose, while a few 
leaves are employed to fill up the gaps in the illustration and also to show how 
leaves could be treated as a design. An easy way to make a pattern of leaves is 
to get such plants as the Virginia creeper, one of the most gorgeous of autumnal 
plants, the blackberry, bryony, maple, &c.; and by brushing a little Chinese white 
or Indian ink over the leaves, and then pressing them upon the material to be 
embroidered, an impression can be obtained sufficient for working from. It will be 
found necessary to mix a little ox-gall with the colour, to prevent the greasiness of 
the leaves resisting the action of the ink or white. 

We would again urge upon all our readers the necessity of selecting such 
colours, either in their dress materials or their crewels and silks, as shall be quiet 
and pleasant to the eye, carefully avoiding anything bright and strong. Rather 
choose neut al colours, such as olives, brown-greens, and greys, than positive ones 
like red, bright blue, or violet. A colour may be brilliant without being gaudy, 
providing it be not a pure colour. For instance, blue-greens and peacock-blues are 
delightful colours, through the toning of the blue with the green, while emerald 
green and bright blue are far from pleasant, producing on the eye much the same 
effect as a room painted vermilion. The colours of embroidery must always be 
regulated by the tone of the dress and made to harmonise with it. Thus, on a red- 
brown dress it would be out of place to introduce so strong a contrast as blue; but 
by working such a pattern as Fig. 9 in rich tones of yellow, green, orange, and 
brown, a harmonious and pleasing effect would result, and would greatly set off 
the colour of the dress. With regard to black, a colour so much affected by 
English people, it certainly seems a pity that youth should array itself in what is at 
best a dismal hue—the emblem we employ to denote grief ana death, and therefore 
quite out of harmony with bright joyous youth. Dr. Richardson tells us that it is 
an unhealthy colour, but I am afraid, like much else in ladies’ dressing, fashion is 
paramount; but be assured that those who are slaves to fashion can never dress 
well, as ?io fashion can possibly be universal, scarcely three people being able to 
dress alike without spoiling their appearance. Those are the best dressed people 
who betray no sign of the milliner or dressmaker about them. 


Section III.— Outline Embroidery. 

Outline embroidery is such an important branch of the decorative art that it 
requires a section to itself. Although sometimes included under the general head 
of ‘ crewel work/ yet the two differ so widely that it is necessary to describe each 





54 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


separately. In crewel work our ideas of beauty are expressed by the harmonious 
blending of colour; in outline work, confining ourselves to strict simplicity of tone, 
our object is attained by graceful forms and delicate tracery. Neat and careful 
work is absolutely essential, and the somewhat free-and-easy style of design allowed 
in crewel work is inadmissible for this, as everything depends upon accuracy of 
detail and neatness of finish. 

There are many stitches which may be used equally well in both styles of 
embroidery, but several are suitable only for outlining; and some of these I will 
explain before going on to the designs. The first and simplest is the split stitch, 
chiefly used where absolute straightness of line is necessary. This is made in exactly 
the same way as stem stitch, except that when the needle is brought up from the 
back of the work it must be brought through the thread, instead of at the left-hand 
side of it, splitting the thread, as the name implies. 

For thick lines, such as the folds of drapery, particularly on coarse materials, either 
twisted chain or cordonnet stitch is employed. The former resembles the ordinary 
chain, with which, no doubt, all my readers are familiar, only that the stitch must 
start from the left-hand side of the previous one instead of from the middle of it. 

The cordonnet answers the same purposes as the twisted chain; it is used 
occasionally for variety, and has also the advantage of being the same on both sides 
if desired. It is formed thus :—Make a row of running stitches along the line to be 
covered; the stitches must be of equal length with each other and the spaces 
between them; come back along the line again in the same manner, filling up the 
spaces; then pass your needle and wool through each stitch on the surface of the 
work, thus giving the appearance of a twisted cord. This last process is shown in 
Fig. i ; the running stitches will, of course, look the same on both sides, but the 

twisting stitch will 
have to be done 
separately on the 
back and front. 
The ordinary chain 
stitch, closely work¬ 
ed, is occasionally 
introduced for dra¬ 
pery, and in old 
work button - hole 
stitch is sometimes 
seen for the edges 
of leaves and petals, 





*0 

S 


9 


/ 
It 




l 


FIG. I. 


FIG. 2 . 


% t* 

1 $ 
v 

FIG. 3. 


$ 


though it is not usual now; for very fine work, such as occurs in the face and hands 
of figures, back-stitching is employed. These few stitches, selected out of many, with 
those already described in ‘ Crewel Work,’ will be found sufficient for all ordinary out¬ 
line embroidery, and the worker will soon learn to modify and alter her stitches accord¬ 
ing to the exigencies of her design. In case of employing the stem stitch for outlining 
leaves, I must give one caution which would not be so necessary if the leaf were to 
be filled up ; having worked up one side to the top, be careful, in coming down the 
other side, to draw the needle out at the right instead of the left side of the thread, 
the latter being the ordinary rule. The reason for this will be obvious on examining 
the serrated edge of a real leaf; were the needle brought out in the usual way, the 






OUTLINE EMBROIDERY, 


55 


edge would have the unnatural appearance shown in Fig. 2. Fig. 3 shows the leaf 
as it should be. The materials used for outline embroidery should, generally speak- 
have a smooth and rather fine surface. Of course, for a large design, with no 
minute details, this is not necessary; indeed, a favourite groundwork for screens and 
wall hangings is sail-cloth, which is certainly neither smooth nor fine, but for small 
articles close-grained holland, linen, satin, or silk sheeting will be found to answer 
better. Cricketing flannel, too, is often used, as affording a good ground for fine 
work, whilst it has the advantage of being warm enough for children’s dresses, cot- 
covers, &c. There are some 
varieties of crewel wool 
specially prepared for coarse 
work, and the use of them 
saves a great deal of time 
and improves the general 
effect; tapestry wool, for 
example, is twice as thick 
as crewel, but it is at present 
rather more difficult to pro¬ 
cure than the better-known 
materials. Another new 
thread is arrasene, which is 
thick and handsome, having 
the appearance of chenille ; 
it is very useful for thick 
lines and broad effects. 

There are many different 
kinds of silk, but perhaps 
the most generally useful is 
the embroidery or bobbin 
silk, which is made in two 
thicknesses, ‘ fine ’ and 
‘ rope,’ the former being in 
one strand and the latter 
having about twelve strands, 
which can be readily separated, and the thickness regulated by the style of em¬ 
broidery in hand. Raw or spun silk is recommended for white flowers, as it is 
quite as good as the embroidery silk, and is much cheaper. Filoselle and purse 
silks are also used occasionally, but for ordinary purposes the two mentioned 
will be sufficient. A new idea for dessert d’oyleys is to embroider on each some 
portion of a willow-pattern tea service; on one a plate, on another a tea-pot, a cup 
and saucer, and so on. These should be worked in different shades of china blue 
silk or crewel, in seem stitch, with the small figures in split stitch. Punch-bowls 
and vases of all sorts can be treated in the same way, and form a pleasant variety 
from the floral designs so long in favour. Fig. 4 is a simple design, based upon 
peacock’s feathers, with ornamental border. It would be effective worked in shades 
of blue, and can be done entirely in outline embroidery. 

Another style which gives scope for considerable ingenuity to the worker, and 
affords a great amount of amusement at the dinner-table, is to embroider on each 



fig. 4. 
























































56 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


d’oyley the representation of a song or a nursery rhyme. For one mat, 1 Twicken¬ 
ham Ferry ’ would be a good subject—the riverside boat with its pretty passenger, 
and the stalwart boatman just pushing off; for another, ‘ Darby and Joan/ an old 
couple by the fireside, hand in hand ; the ‘ Three Sailor Boys/ and many others, 
will afford suitable and characteristic little pictures for the purpose. If the names 
are put underneath, the letters should be back-stitched; but, provided that the 
subjects are well carried out, their meaning will be obvious to everyone without the 
name, and it is generally preferred to leave each guest to find out what his d’oyley 
represents. In the case of larger articles, and where there seems so much open 
space between the lines of the design, it is very common to partially fill up some 
small part of the pattern. I have seen a banner-screen of dead-gold satin, on which 
was outlined a branch of an oak tree, with leaves, acorns, gall-nuts, &c., but the 
cups of the acorns were all filled up with French knots. It is an improvement to 



fig. 5 . 

cover a portion of the large leaves by a few lines in the middle, like veins; and this 
may be done in all cases where the design looks at all bare. Where a scroll is 
introduced with the foliage the scroll is often entirely filled up. 

Fig. 5 is part of a design of a procession of young storks, and would be suitable 
for a frieze or any piece of embroidery, as the idea might be carried out to any 
length. Birds, when drawn quaintly, form very effective c.ecorations for certain 
rooms, and can be executed in one colour, such as brown or indigo blue. Fig. 6 
shows the treatment of fish, which is both novel and effective, and gives great relief 
when interspersed with other embroidery. The design would look very effective 
worked in golden browns on a dark blue or green cloth. The water lines at back 
should be light blue, to give relief to the fish. 

In the section on crewel work some mention was made of table-cloths for five 
o’clock tea, and I promised to give a further description of them. If the table be 




























OUTLINE EMBROIDERY. 


57 


round, a tight-fitting cloth is best—a round piece for the top and a straight strip 

round the side. A pretty idea for a cover of this sort is to make a design introducing 
the characters of some of the well-known nursery rhymes, such as ‘Hush-a-bye 
Baby, on the Tree Top,’ ‘See-saw, Margery Daw,’ &c. Another way is to have a 
senes of pictures all illustrating the same rhyme. Take, for instance, the story of 
Mother Hubbard and her dog. The events of their chequered career are' too 
numerous to be all chronicled, but the most striking portions of this well-known 

history should be chosen for the cloth, and one side of the cosy Mother Hubbard 
should be portrayed sitting at 

tea, and on the reverse her 
faithful hound. The spaces 
between the groups of figures 
may be occupied by the words 
of the story if desired. 

Another pretty design would 
be a ring of little damsels, 
joining hands, dancing round 
the mulberry tree, a representa¬ 
tion of which should occupy 
the cosy. The same class of 
designs applies to borders for 
side-board cloths, which are an 
immense improvement to the 
dining-room. They look best 
made to fit on to the side-board. 

The border is a straight piece, 
stitched on to the top part after 
being worked, but sometimes 
they are made like an ordinary 
loose cloth. 

The old fashion of having 
drawn silk in the front of 
cottage pianos is disappearing, 
the modern ones usually having 
that part filled lip with painted 
panels of plain wood. But 
those who have old pianos, 
with, perhaps, faded silk dis¬ 
played in the front, may easily 

make them look new-fashioned , 

by removing the silk, and in- FIG ’ 

serting in its place a strip of crewel or outline embroidery. A conventional floral 
pattern looks well, and a design of one can be taken from any preceding illus¬ 
tration. 

Fig. 7 is a design, representing music, for fire screen. It shows the treatment 
of figures, as the whole effect must be produced by outline embroidery. The other 
arts, such as painting, poetry, and sculpture, would form suitable companions. 

Fig. 8, on the following page, is a design for floral panel, and, as will be seen, is 























58 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK\ 


a conventionalised representation of the sunflower. The leaves might be outlined 
in green and the flowers in yellow, while the double line running round the outside, 
and which serves to frame in the design, might be light turquoise or peacock blue. 
Outline embroidery is very applicable to the ornamentation of large pieces of 

furniture—such as screens 
—more so than the ordi¬ 
nary crewel work, as it is 
lighter and more graceful 
in effect. Besides this, time 
is an object to most people 
in these busy days, and 
they might hesitate to com¬ 
mence a large mass of filled 
work, so that for this reason 
outlining is preferable, as 
being more quickly done. 
A three or fourfold screen, 
with embroidered panels, 
would look very nice. The 
frames of the screens being 
always quite plain, they 
are not expensive. The 
material worked upon, if 
cotton, should be very 
coarse and heavy, such as 
sailcloth ; and for the thick 
lines, either tapestry, wool, 
or arrasene is more effeC' 
tive than crewel. The 
designs best suited for 
screens and other large 
articles are those taken 
from allegorical or mytho¬ 
logical subjects. 

For instance, for a 
screen with four wings, re¬ 
presentations of the four 
seasons would be effective, 
and easily designed. Sail¬ 
cloth is strongly recom¬ 
mended for the foundation; 
and dark brown or olive 
green wools, keeping to one 
uniform shade for the 
FIG * 7 * whole. The ears of corn, 

the grapes, and apples, and the sickle, may be filled up. It is not necessary to 
work the back of the screen; it should be covered with stamped velvet, or any 
other rich material, in the same colour as the wool used for the embroidery. 





























































































































OUTLINE EMBROIDERY . 


59 


In doing a large piece of work like a screen, stop occasionally and look at it 
from a distance, to make sure that you are working in the best way for the general 
effect, and not making unimportant details too prominent, which is a fault into 
which beginners are apt 
to fall. The worker must 
use her own judgment as 
to which stitches are ap¬ 
plicable to the different 
subjects in her design. 

Of course a variety can 
be introduced on the 
same figure; and it is 
no waste of time for a 
beginner to spend a little 
while before beginning 
her work in learning the 
stitches described above. 

If you have taken the 
design from a picture it 
is a great help to have 
the original at hand to 
refer to while working, as 
however carefully you may 
trace your pattern some 
of the lines almost always 
become indistinct, and 
very often the slightest 
deviation from the real 
lines is disastrous, as, for 
instance, in working a 
face. In ‘the good old 
times’ people must have 
had a deal more spare 
time at their disposal than 
we have in the present 
day, or they never could 
have attempted the mar¬ 
vellous specimens of work 
which have been handed 
down to us from our 
ancestors. I have seen 
a full-sized quilt com¬ 
pletely covered with out¬ 
line flowers, scrolls, and 
foliage, every stitch of 

which is hand-worked in the finest back-stitching. The time it must have taken 
to do is something appalling, and its extreme neatness and exactness make us 
feel rather ashamed of the slipshod manner of sewing and stitching allowed now-a- 



fig. 8 . 




























































6o 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


days. This quilt was worked by some Huguenot ladies in their spare time, after 
their escape to England from the persecutions in France, and their descendants 
are justly proud of possessing such an extraordinary piece of work. Things are 
very different now, and there is no need to spend our time in making what can 
be manufactured and sold at convenient prices ; but in the case of crewel work no 
girl ought to think of buying what she can make for herself at almost no expense, 
the only necessaries being neatness, patience, and good taste. 

Embroidered Music Case. 

We think we shall meet the wishes of many of the readers of The Gi?Ts Own 
Indoor Book in giving them a design for a music cover to be worked in silk or 
crewels. There are few households which do not possess music, and a music case 
becomes an indispensable article, if we wish to keep songs, &c., clean and tidy. To 
make this case beautiful with our own work is surely a laudable object, and one 
worthy of the attention of our readers. 

Many already possess the usual cloth-covered music cases sold by music-sellers 
and others, and with this as a foundation it only remains to cover the sides and back 
with the embroidered material; but to those of our readers who do not possess such 
a case it is necessary to provide stout covers on which to stretch the work. Purchase 
at any good stationer’s two pieces of millboard about an inch larger in width and 
breadth than a piece of music. See that the millboard is of good substance (the 
dark kind is preferable to the light straw-coloured millboard), as the strength of the 
case depends upon this. If the millboard be too thin, two pieces must be glued 
together to give greater strength. The next thing is to get the material to embroider. 
Silk or satin is the best for the purpose, as, being a comparatively small article, the 
whole thing should be good. Let the material be dark, deep blue-black or black, as 
embroidery looks so much better on a dark ground; though in the accompanying 
illustration we have reversed this in order not to confuse the design, it being .essential 
that this should be followed accurately to insure the right effect. It is better to 
have the material in one piece, but as this may be too expensive, it might be made 
in two pieces and joined at the back. 1 The material should be about an inch larger 
every way than the size of the case, and about an inch deep at back, to allow of many 
pieces of music being kept in the case. When the material is worked—which, of 
course, must be done before the case is covered—spread it out on the table, and having 
marked where the centre of the back comes on the wrong side of the stuff, adjust the 
pieces of millboard on either side of the centre line, only about half an inch from it, 
in order to make a back on the principle of a book. Be careful to get this back 
deep enough, otherwise the case will hold scarcely any music. In order to strengthen 
the back the covering might be lined, or the two pieces of millboard might be joined 
together with a piece of strong material, and then the embroidered covering might 
be put over this. In order to make this perfectly intelligible, recollect that what you 
have to make are really the covers of a book without the inside. 

Having marked on the back of the material where each piece of millboard 
comes, turn over the margins at the top and bottom and two sides, and with some 
glue nicely hot stick these edges down on the millboard. Allow this to dry 

1 This join should not be down the middle of the back, but at the edge of one of the 
covers, as it will not be so conspicuous nor interfere with the pattern at the back. 












DESIGN FOR EMBROIDERED MUSIC CASE. 






























































62 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


thoroughly, which it will take about a day to do, and then paste some nice paper, or 
light silk if that be possible, and your covers are then complete. 

We spoke just now about strengthening the back with an additional piece of 
stuff, and this might be glued inside the covers instead of underneath the outer 
covering. A regular bookbinder would, perhaps, stick the material itself down upon 
the millboard, but unless this be done very carefully, the glue is apt to soak through 
and spoil the embroidery, and it is therefore better left unattempted. We now come 
to the question of the embroidery itself, and the first thing of course to do is to 
enlarge the design to the requisite size. Divide an illustration into half-inch squares, 
by drawing parallel lines at right angles to each other at distances of half an inch. 
Then on a piece of paper mark off the same number of squares, only at distances of 
one inch. Fill in each square with its appropriate portion of the illustration, and 
you will have enlarged it twice its original size. Having drawn out the design on 
paper, trace it carefully on tracing paper, making any improvements and alterations 
that may be necessary. The best way of transferring it upon the material is to have 
the design pricked on the wrong side, and then rub some powdered chalk over it, 
on the right side of the design, and an impression will be left in the stuff. To fix 
this, mark it over with Chinese white, and it is then ready for working. If you 
have chosen silk or satin as your material, the embroidery should be in silk, as the 
effect is more chaste and delicate. Let the flowers be a nice light pink, not too 
bright, with yellow stamens, and a small green centre ; the leaves in nice greens, 
yellow and olive rather than emerald in tone, as the effect will be spoilt if the 
colouring be too gaudy. The stems should be a warm reddish-brown. The five 
lines through the word music, suggestive of the staves, should be in a golden brown, 
the word music in tones of blue, green, or golden yellow, and the harps lighter than 
the lettering. The lines running round might be in golden brown, and the small 
square dots in yellow. But, of course, the colouring can be altered to any key, so 
long as the whole effect is harmonious; and to ensure this it is better not to intro¬ 
duce too many distinct colours, but to work with different tones of the same colour. 
In the colouring we have indicated the prevailing tone is yellow brown and olive 
green, with the turquoise blue in the centre as a contrast. We have indicated a 
simple pattern for the back, which can also be worked in browns or yellows. In 
doing this, and the square dots running right round the outside of the cover, it is 
better to vary the colour rather than keep the same throughout, as it looks less 
mechanical to make a slight variety when repeating a certain form a number 
of times. 

A word or two as to the kind of design suitable for book-covers; for we may 
here remark that many ordinary books might have covers embroidered for them with 
advantage. 

The space being limited, it is as well to choose plants of a scale corresponding 
to the size of the object to be worked. In the case of smaller books, plants like the 
jasmine, wild clematis, and honeysuckle are the most suitable, not only as to size, 
but also as to growth, for climbing plants are, as a rule, more graceful than other 
shrubs. In the wild rose chosen for the music case the stems are arranged 
symmetrically, that is, both sides are alike. It will thus save trouble in enlarging the 
design to draw one half, and then by folding the paper in two and rubbing both 
together with a hard instrument, sufficient of the pencil marks will come off on the 
other side to go by in working. The symmetrical plan need not be adhered to. 



63 


PA TTERNS FOR KNITTING . 

though it is perhaps safer to follow it, as it is not always easy to get the balance of 
forms in a free design. Let the design appear as though it were drawn for the space 
it fills, and not as though it were a large design cut down to the requisite size. All 
work should have the appearance of completeness—of being made for the object for 
which it is used, and none other. 


i 


Section IV.— Patterns for Knitting. 

Knitting is one of the most convenient kinds of fancy work, open to old or 
young, at all times and in all places. It affords an especially agreeable pastime for 
winter evenings, when fine art embroidery is not available. This explains its long 
use, and the constant demand for new knitting stitches. To satisfy the useful mania 
I have chosen a few designs, more or less open, and all easy enough to be executed 
by any young girl with the slightest knowledge of knitting. Each of the patterns 
may be worked in cotton 
or wool, either with steel 
or bone needles, accord¬ 
ing to its intended adapta¬ 
tion. With such a wide 
range surely our young 
friends will find many op¬ 
portunities to utilize these 
simple stitches for some¬ 
thing suitable, both for 
their own use and for pre¬ 
sent-making, not forget¬ 
ting Christmas gifts to the 
poor. 

Let us begin with the 
Lozenge Pattern, Fig. i. 

Pretty and showy 
though it looks, it will 
not strain your memory 
in the least, for it con¬ 
tains in reality but two 
rows to learn. Now 
quickly catch up your 
.needles, and, just to try 
the stitch, cast on fourteen FIG - i.— lozenge pattern. 

stitches, six for each lozenge and two for the edges. Knit a foundation row; 
then, for the ist row, thread forward, slip one, knit two together, draw the slipped 
stitch over the knitted one, thread forward, knit three, repeat. Purl the 2nd. row. 
3rd row- Knit three, thread forward, slip one, knit two together, draw the slipped 
stitch over, thread forward, repeat. Purl the 4th and every alternate row. The 
pattern is now completed. After each row see that you retain fourteen on your 





































64 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


needle. The two-edged stitches I have taken no notice of, because it is always 
understood they are knitted plain. The two stitches lost by knitting two together, 
and drawing the slipped one over, are made up when you put the thread forward 
twice. ‘What can be made with this stitch?’ you ask—light shawls, hoods, 
fichus, and capes. To widen and narrow at will you have merely to employ 
graduated sizes of needles at regular intervals. Workers occasionally change their 
wool also, but beginners had better content themselves with the variation of needles 
alone. In precisely the same way you can manage the goring of petticoats, for 
which a most appropriate design will be found in the spaced rectangles of Fig. 2. 



FIG. 2 .—SPACED RECTANGLES. 


Here we have a little more work in store. Cast on any number of stitches, 
divisible by 12—1. 

1 st Row.—Slip one, wool forward, knit two together, knit four, purl one, wool 
forward, knit two together, purl one, knit one. 

2nd Row.—Slip one, knit one, purl two, knit one, purl seven. 

3rd Row.—Slip one, knit one, wool forward, knit two together, knit three, purl 
one, knit two together, wool forward, purl two. 

4th Row.—Like the 2nd. 

5th Row.--Slip one, knit two, wool forward, knit two together, knit two, purl 
one, wool forward, knit two together, purl two. 

6th Row.—Similar to the 2nd. 

7th Row.—Slip one, knit three, wool forward, knit two together, knit one, purl 
one, knit two together, wool forward, purl two. 

8th Row.—Like the 2nd. 








65 


PA TTERNS FOR KNITTING. 


9th Row. Slip one, knit four, wool forward, knit two together, purl one, wool 
forward, knit two together, purl two. 

Observe that the first stitch is always slipped, and whenever two are knitted to¬ 
gether the lost one is made up by putting the wool forward— i.e., in front of the 
needle, which means make one. 

The Cable Pattern (Fig. 3) is a favourite one for quilts, especially when divided 
by open-work, through which a bright-coloured lining is visible. Notwithstanding 
its raised twist, the cable is often used for stockings requiring extra warmth. Next 
time you go to the Crystal Palace try to see, in one of the show-cases, the pair of 
grey stockings knitted by the children of the Industrial School, similar to the pair 
worked for the Princess of Wales. 

Cast on six stitches for the cable, and nine for the openwork, making fifteen in 
all, which you multiply according to the desired number of the stripes. 

1 st Row.—Knit six *, purl one, wool forward, slip one, knit one, draw the slipped 
stitch over the knitted 
one, repeat from * twice. 

The six plain ones stand 
for the torsade, and the 
rest for the open lines. 

2nd Row.—Purl. 

3rd Row. — Same as 
1 st. 

4th Row.—Purl. 

5 th Row.—Here take 
a third needle, on which 
slip the three first stitches; 
leave them there while you 
knit the three remaining 
stitches of the cable in 
the usual way : notice that 
the extra needle with the 
three slipped stitches lies 
in front and to the right; 
with it you are going to form the twist. Be careful to choose this supplementary 
needle without any knob, for the stitches are first slipped on to one end and after¬ 
wards knitted off from the opposite one by the needle which bears only the three 
stitches last knitted. In doing this the three slipped stitches cross the knitted ones, 
thus reversing their place and lying last instead of first. 

The two following patterns, the Linked Scallop (Fig. 4), and the Ladder (Fig. 5), 
are taken from stockings; therefore I will first explain them as worked in the 
circular way. You know, of course, that circular knitting is made with four or five 
needles, round after round, just as for stockings, cuffs, or sleeves; hence you always 
knit in front, and never at the back, as must be done when knitting with two needles 
Cast twelve stitches on two needles and thirteen on a third. 

This allows six scallops of six stitches each, and one over the seam stitch, which, 
as usual, is purled in every row. 1st Round.— * Purl one, knit three, purl one, 
make a turned stitch, that is, slip one, and, with the very needle that held it, take it 
on again, seizing it from the back to twist it, then knit it ; this turning does no 



FIG. 3.—CABLE AND OPENWORK STRIPES. 












66 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


alter the plain knitting, but gives it more relief;—an improvement in the case of a 
dividing line. Repeat from * five times. Knit the second and third rounds like the 
first. 4th Round.—Purl one, leave the wool in front, slip one, knit two together, 
draw the slipped stitch over the knitted one. Make one, by twisting the wool right 
round the needle. Purl one, make a turned stitch, purl one, repeat. 

To execute the same pattern with two needles proceed as follows : Cast on any 



FTG. 7.— STOCKING WITHOUT HEEL. 

number divisible by six and two over for edge stitches to be knitted plain. Work 
the 1st row exactly as in the circular knitting. For the 2nd row, necessarily 
made at the back, knit one, purl three, knit one, make a turned stitch in purling, 
repeat. 

The 3rd row resembles the 1st, and the 4th row is like the 2nd. The 5th row is 
the same as the 4th one of the circular mode. Sixth row : Knit one, purl the made 
stitch, purl a turned stitch, purl the next made stitch, knit one, purl a turned stitch 
again. 








































































































SOCK AND STOCKING KNITTING. 


67 


. ,rhe Ladder Stripe (Fig. 5) also contains six stitches for each pattern. Cast on 
thirty-seven as before. 

1 st Round.—Knit three, one turned stitch, one purl, one turned stitch, repeat. 

2nd Round.—Thread forward, slip one, knit two together, draw the slipped stitch 
over, thread forward, one turned stitch, one purl, one turned stitch, repeat. 

To work the ladder stripe flat, take two needles, and cast on a number divisible 
by six with two extra for edge stitches. The 1st row repeats exactly the first round. 
In the 2nd row purl the turned stitch. Knit one, purl the turned stitch, purl three, 
repeat. The 3rd row is the same as the second round of the circular knitting. 

4th Row.—Purl the turned stitch, knit one, purl the turned stitch, purl the next 
three, that is the two made stitches and the one formed by drawing the slipped 
stitch over. 

Little children, like grown-up people, are fond of variety, and weary of practising 
the plain knitting stitch again and again; expressly to humour them, I have added 
the little cut (Fig. 6), which represents an openwork formed by merely knitting 
plain until the last row but one, when every alternate stitch is dropped. The loose 
loops run down as in a Jacob’s ladder, leaving barred stripes between the lines 
of chain. 

The tiniest little child can manage this ABC pattern for a pincushion cover, 
antimacassar, or a doll’s quilt, and will be delighted to see her work when shown up 
by a pink or blue lining. 

The same easy design is now much employed for heelless socks and stockings, 
known as American, Italian, German, and English. Whatever may be its origin, its 
execution at all events offers no difficulty. It dispenses with all shaping of leg and 
heel, and resembles a long narrow bag, pointed at the toe end. 

The elasticity of the knitting allows it to mould perfectly to the leg and foot. 
For the working, mount the ordinary number of stitches and rib the top for about 
three inches, and cast off loosely; you have then a ribbed bracelet, the stitches of 
which you pick up again on the three needles and proceed to knit plain for about 
ten inches, without troubling yourself with seam stitches or decreasings. At the 
last round, drop every alternate stitch, which will, of course, leave only half the 
original number on the needles; proceed with the toes as if finishing an ordinary 
stocking. Lastly, stretch the bag until every dropped stitch has reached the top rib, 
when it will have become twice as long as before ; hence you must take your 
measures carefully and only knit about half the intended length. 


Section V.— Sock and Stocking Knitting. 

I daresay those of my young friends who have tried the heelless stocking in such 
favour abroad have fancied that this style of work was but play. This primitive 
mode, however, was only offered to gratify fashion’s current whim, and as a first dip 
into the mysteries of stocking knitting; not that the difficulties are very great, but, 
like everything else worth doing, this branch has a few rules to be learnt and 
followed. Hence I reserve the elementary principles for a special chat with 
beginners. This first lesson is prepared for the clever ones already initiated into 
the entire management of a stocking. For those who wish to make Christmas gifts 
the annexed specimens have been chosen, rather lacey and pretty, so they will take 

f 2 





68 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


some time to do, and we must set to the task immediately, if we wish to be generous 
with a small outlay. Therefore let us take the bull by the horns, and venture at 
once on the longest piece of work—the lady’s stocking, with its honeycombed 

insertions. , . 

Speaking, as I suppose, to experienced knitters, I need not explain the stocking 

row by row; the main points will be sufficient guide (see big. i). 

Materials—Chinese knitting silk, Angola wool, Victoria yarn, coloured cotton, 

&c. Needles—No. 17. Cast on 120 stitches, 
and rib by two plain and two purl for sixty- 
eight rounds. 

69th Round—Plain knitting; increase one, 
to stand for the seam; three more rounds 
plain, five rounds purl. These close circles 
may be reversed at will, so as to produce a 
band of flat plain knitting, or of projecting 
purls. 

Hojieycomb. —* Wool forward to make one, 
slip one, knit one, pass slipped stitch over ; 
repeat from * to the end of the round. 

2nd Round.—Plain: purl the seam stitch. 
The 3rd Round like first; but to obtain the 
diagonal look of one face, be sure to slip the 
stitch drawn over in the first round, and knit 
the made stitch ; then pass the slipped stitch 
over. 

4th Round.—Plain ; work these four rows 
again, to have a circular stripe of eight rounds 
—four patterned and four plain, alternately; 
knit two more plain rounds, then another band 
of five purl rounds, and one plain, which brings 
you again to the honeycomb. Repeat twelve 
times. After the last ribbed stripe, prepare 
your needles for the heel. The honeycomb 
presents on one side slanting lines, divided by 
four holes, and on the other side diamond¬ 
shaped holes connected by purls. (Seen in 
the detail, Fig. 2.) 

Heart-shaped Heel. —The banded and the 
seamed or manufacturer’s heel is not touched 
upon here, but I will at this time explain the 
fig. 1. lady’s orENWORK stocktng. conven i en t heart-shaped heel. Divide the 

stitches in two parts; forty-two for the front and forty-three for the heel. From 
this number you will infer that thirty-six stitches have been lost by the eighteen 
intakes, which, for this beautifully-shaped stocking, graduate from the third band 
of purl. Work the straight flap of the heel backwards and forwards for forty-two 
rows, or 2 \ inches, slipping the edge stitches, and not forgetting the seam stitch. 

Turning of Heel. —Purl until one beyond the seam-stitch; then begin the 
decrease by purling two together—purl one. Leave the remaining seventeen stitches 











































































FIG. 4.—DETAIL OF 
SHELL PATTERN. 


on the needle. Turn the work, slip one, knit three, purl the seam stitch, knit one, 
knit two together, but from the back, to allow the decrease to slope in the rHht 
manner—knit one. Turn, purl until you come to the stitch above the two knitted 
together of the last row. Purl this stitch together with the next stitch. Purl 
another to close the decrease. By this means the intake always verges to the left of 
the previous one, and one fresh stitch is reduced at each row. Knit in this manner 
until the stitches taken together come at the end of a row, which it will do after the 

twenty-second row. Turn and knit the next row, knitting the last two together, 
also to make both sides match. 

Gusset. Pick up, and meanwhile knit twenty-one stitches along the left side of 
the heel, to meet the front needles; these you knit in order to reach the right side 
ot the heel, which you raise up as before, 
and then knit along the back needle to 
the seam. Take care to divide the 
stitches well between the three needles, 
and work twenty-four rounds, following 
the pattern in the front, and shaping 
the gusset by knitting together the two 
stitches at the top of the heel on either 
side. These intakes gradually slope 
downwards, and are knitted alternately 
from the front and from the back, 
according as to how the stitches should 
slant. After the decreasings are com¬ 
pleted see that you have eighty-four 
stitches in all on the needles; then knit fifty- 
seven rounds, honeycombed on the instep, after¬ 
wards six entirely plain. 

Rowid Toe .—Have twenty-eight stitches on 
each needle, for the toe will be narrowed in 
three sections, thus :—Knit two together, two 
plain, two together from the back, twenty-two 
plain, repeat exactly for the two other needles. 

Five rounds plain, knit two together, two 
plain, two together from the back, twenty 
plain; repeat twice. Five rounds plain. One 
decreased round, and six rounds plain, three 
times; one decreased round, five rounds plain, one decreased round, three rounds 
plain.- one decreased round, and one round plain, three times. There now 
remain four stitches on each needle, which make in all twelve. Cast them off by 
knitting on each needle two together twice, leaving six; again knit two together 
three times, leaving three. Draw the wool through, and secure it by two or three 
tight stitches with a crochet-hook. Break off. This stocking measures from top to 
turn of heel 22^ inches, and from the back of the heel to the toe 10 inches, allowing 
11 stitches to the inch. 

Now I am going to explain a very pretty sock, not at all difficult to manage 
(Fig. 3). The design (Fig. 4) runs in a triple stripe down the front, while the back 
is plain. 



FIG. 3. —LITTLE CHILD’S SOCK. 



























































70 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Materials—Knitting cotton, No. 14, merino or imperial silk; needles No. 17 
or 18. 

Cast on sixty-four stitches and rib, with two plain and two purl for twenty-four 
rounds. Commence the seam stitch at the twenty-fifth round, which is plain as well 
as the twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh. 

28th Round.—Seam one, knit fifteen. Here begins the pattern, which occupies 
thirteen stitches for the first stripe and ten for the two next ones. 

Shell Stripe. —* Purl one, knit one from the back, purl one; knit one and make 
one six times. Knit one, repeat from * twice more, finish with purl one ; knit one 
from the back, purl one. Knit the remaining fifteen stitches plain. 

29th Round.—Seam one, knit fifteen, * purl one, knit one from the back, purl 
one, knit thirteen, repeat from * twice more ; finish as before with purl one. Knit 
one from the back, purl one. Knit fifteen. 

30th Round.—Seam one, knit fifteen, * purl one, knit one from the back, purl 
one, slip one, knit one, pass slipped stitch o^er, knit nine, knit two together, repeat 
from * twice; finish as before. Knit fifteen. 

31st Round.—Seam one, knit fifteen, * purl one, knit one from the back, purl 
one, knit two together, knit seven, slip one, knit one, pass slipped stitch over. 
Repeat from * twice, purl one, knit one from the back, purl one, fifteen plain. 

32nd Round.—Seam one, knit fifteen, * purl one, knit one from the back, purl 
one, slip one, knit one, pass slipped stitch over, knit five, knit two together; repeat 
from * twice. Finish as before. 

You thoroughly understand that the pattern requires five rounds, and represents 
six diverging lines terminated by holes and pointing downwards. The enclosing 
zigzags are the result of the decreasings done alternately by taking two together or 
drawing one slipped stitch over. 

Repeat the pattern again twelve times, and you have reached the heel, after 
working for the leg sixty-eight rows in all, without any decrease. 

Heart-shaped Heel. —Divide the sixty-four stitches as follows. Twenty-seven on 
the heel needle and thirty-five on the two front needles. Knit the twenty-seven 
backwards and forwards for twenty-nine rows, slipping the first stitch of every 
line. . 

Turning of Heel .—Purl back to the seam stitch, which you now discontinue. 
Purl two together, purl one to set the decreasing; turn; knit three, knit two 
together from the back, knit one; turn; purl four, purl two together, purl one; 
turn; knit five, knit two together, knit one; turn ; purl six, purl two together, purl 
one ; turn ; knit seven, knit two together from the back, knit one. Continue thus 
until you have worked off all the stitches. You have noticed a slight difference 
between this closing and the one described for the lady’s heel, viz., the suppression 
of the seam stitch under the ball of the foot, and the sharper turn imparted by 
leaving no plain stitch on either side of the seam. I give you both ways that you 
can choose the one most convenient for your purpose. 

Gusset. —Pick up and knit the fourteen slipped stitches along the sides of the 
heel, beginning, of course, with the left-hand one, and proceed with the pattern as 
you work round the front. After one plain round shape the gusset on the left-hand 
needle by knitting to the last six; then two together and four plain; and on the 
right hand one begin by four plain, and two together from the back. Continue 
plain. Decrease thus until sixty stitches in all are left on the needles, i.e., thirty- 




SOCK AND STOCKING KNITTING. 


7 1 



three for the pattern, which is never broken, and twenty-seven plain. Work nine 
patterns of forty-five rows, and end the open-work. Knit ten rounds plain. 

Toe. —Arrange twenty stitches on each needle, and knit two together, first from 
the front then from the back for every round ; the rest of the stitches plain. When 
you have made eighteen rounds you will find but two stitches on each needle. Cast 
these off by knitting two together three times, and drawing the thread at once 
through the three last stitches. Break off and darn the end in and out on the right 
side. The length of the sock is 6^- inches from top to bend of heel, and 6 inches 
from heel to toe. Twelve stitches are taken to the inch. 

Infants’ shoes are welcome in every family; aunties and godmothers specially 
delight in working these little trifles for their pets, as they have the double advantage 
of being inexpensive and quickly made. The one shown in our illustration (Fig. 5) 
consists of a tiny close slipper, in blue Andalusian wool, and a white fancy sock. 
To execute it begin with 
the middle of the sole. 

Cast on sixty-nine stitches, 
dividing them equally on 
three needles. Knit one, 
increase by knitting one 
from the back of the seam 
stitch. Finish the needle 
plain. Knit plain to the 
twelfth stitch of the second 
needle, make another in¬ 
crease by knitting from 
the back. Eleven plain; 
third needle, twenty-three 
plain. The first increase 
is for the toe and the 
second for the heel. 

2nd Round.—Purl. 

3rd Round. — Make 
two at the toe end by 
knitting from the front 
and from the back of the 
two first stitches; knit plain to the heel—increase, then make two in the same 

manner. Finish plain. 

4th Round. • Purl. 

5 th Round.—Plain with increase. 

6th Round.—Purl. , , . ... . t . 

7th Round —Plain, with increase, widening heel for the last time. Work to the 

fifteenth round, enlarging the toe end only. You now have eighty-eight stitches 
on the needles. Nine two rounds alternately purl and plain. In the last round 
increase one in the centre of the second needle. Leave aside on twine fifty of the 
back stitches for the opening of the shoe ; the remaining forty will be for the cap ot 
the shoe ; set them on the needles thus—twelve at the toe end on one, and fourteen 
on each of the side needles. The right-hand needle remains idle, and all the work 
is done on the left-hand one ; the stitch followed is the well-known moss. Knit one 


FIG. 5.—BABY’S SHOE. 





72 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


and purl one alternately, going towards the toe; leave the fourteenth on the needle, 
turn and work back on these thirteen, knitting the purled stitches and purling the 
knitted ones of preceding row. Turn and work down again, this time knitting the 
spare stitch together with the last. 

4th Row.—Turn and knit back. In the 5th and every other row, knit up one 
of the toe stitches together with the last, till all the twelve have been worked off. 

28th Row.—Work down again. 

29th Row.—Return, and at the beginning knit the fourteenth stitch off the 
right-hand needle. 

30th Row.—Work to the toe end ; turn the shoe inside out, and cast off together 
the thirteen stitches from the two side needles. Next make the roll by knitting 
four rounds on the fifty stitches left aside and the stitches of the cap ; cast off. 

Leg. —This is worked from the shoe upwards in the shell or inverted wave 
pattern, one curve being sunken and the other raised by purls which almost conceal 
the holes. The former requires six stitches, and the latter twelve ; pick up and 
knit along the cap eighteen stitches, taking them four rows inwards, not to spoil the 
roll; purl back on these eighteen, at the same time purling one stitch from the side 
of the foot together with the first and last stitch. In the third row commence the 
pattern for the instep, which contains a complete sunken curve, and two halves of 
the inverted ones. Purl two together three times; purl one and make one six 
times ; purl two together three times. 

4th Row.—Purl eighteen, catching the first and last stitch as before always 
below the roll. 

5th Row.—Knit eighteen. 

6th Row.—Purl eighteen. 

7th Row.—Like third. 

8th Row.—Similar to fourth. 

9th Row.—Same as fifth. 

10th Row.—Repetition of sixth. Continue thus until the fourteenth row, when 
you will have secured seven of the side stitches, leaving eighteen on each. Work 
the fifth row, and instead of turning back, pick up with a third needle the stitches 
along the right-hand side, following on the pattern, i.e., purl three times; two to¬ 
gether ; purl one and make one six times; purl two together three times. 

16th Row.—Turn, slip the first stitch, purl the remaining thirty-five. With a 
fresh pin pick up and purl the stitches along the left-hand side of the foot. 

17th Row.—Turn, slip one, knit fifty-three. 

18th Row.—Turn, slip one, purl fifty-three. 

19th Row.—Turn, purl two together three times, * purl one and make one six 
times; purl two together six times, repeat from *, then purl one and make one six 
times, purl two together three times. 

The 20th, 21 st, and 22nd rows are like the 16th, 17th, and 18th. Five more 
patterns, then three plain rows. You are ready for the seven rows of ribs, in three 
plain and three purl. Cast off and trim with a crochet edge as follows : One 
double crochet into the centre of a rib; one chain, one picot (of five chain and one 
single), one chain. Repeat seventeen times. 

Through a row of holes thread an anklet of half-inch coloured ribbon. 



SOCK AND STOCKING KNITTING. 


73 


Baby’s Shoe. 

Begin uith the sole. Cast on two needles, fifty-three stitches. Knit in garter 
stitch for eleven rows (Fig. 6). 

I?istep. — 12th Row. Knit twenty, * slip one, knit two together, pass slipstitch 
over, knit two, make one by throwing the wool over the needle. Knit one, purl 
one; knit one, make one, knit two, slip one, knit two together; pass slipstitch 
over *, knit two. These stitches from * to * are reserved for the instep, and will 
remain the same to the thirty-second row inclusive. The purl stitch always stands 
for the centre, and the two made ones give perpendicular lines of holes on either 
side. Every alternate row is, of course, purled. The plain stitches gradually added 
on each end form the sides. Two extra needles are now required. 

Having worked the twenty plain and the fifteen pattern stitches, turn the 
knitting, leaving eighteen on the left-hand needle. 

13th Row.—With a fresh pin purl fifteen; leave eighteen on the right-hand 
needle ; take a fourth pin and work over the fifteen purl stitches. 

14th Row.—Slip one, repeat instep pattern from * to *, knit one, knit two off 
the left-hand needle, which has remained idle. You have fifteen stitches on the 
centre pin. 

15th Row.—Turn and purl fifteen ; purl two off the right-hand needle, also idle. 
Hence from the fourteenth to the thirty-second row inclusive you add two stitches 
at each line. 

16th Row.— Slip one. Repeat from * to *, knit one and the two extra stitches. 

17 th Row.—Purl. 

18th Row.—Slip one, knit two, repeat from * to *. Knit two and the two 
extra ones. Purl every alternate line. 

20th Row.—Slip one, knit three, repeat from * to *, knit three and the two 
extra stitches. 

22nd Row.—Slip one, knit four, repeat from * to *; knit three and the two 
extra. You have now twenty-five stitches on the front needle and eight on each of 
the side ones, in all forty-one. 

24th Row.—Turn, slip one, knit five, repeat from * to *, knit six, and the eight 
left on the adjoining needle. 

25th Row.—Purl all on the front needle, as well as the eight left on the opposite 
needle. Two of the pins are then suppressed, and the remainder of the shoe is 
executed with two only. 

26th Row.—Slip one, knit twelve, repeat from * to *, knit thiiteen. 

28th Row.—Slip one, knit eleven; repeat from * to *, knit twelve. 

30th Row.—Slip one, knit ten; repeat from * to *, knit eleven. 

32nd Row.—Slip one, knit nine; repeat from * to *, knit ten. See that you 
have thirty-one stitches on the needle. The shoe itself is finished. 

Anklet. —Three rows of garter stitch. 

36th Row.—Runner. Slip one, make one, knit two together to the end; three 
rows of garter stitch. 

Leg. Moss Stitch.— 40th Row.—Knit one, purl one, &c. 

41st Row and every other row purled. 

42nd Row.—Purl one, knit one to the end. 

44th Row.—Knit one, purl one, &c. 



74 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK, 


The 46th Row begins the increasings to shape the leg; slip one, purl one. 
Raise a stitch, * knit one, purl one, repeat from * until within the two last stitches, 
when you again raise one. 

48th Row.—Knit one, purl one, &c. Increase also one at each end of the row, 

doing the same in the 50th 
and 52nd Row. 

50th Row.—Like the 
46th. 

52nd Row.—Knit one, 
purl one, &c. After this 
now stop the increasings 
by which you have obtained 
eight more stitches. 

54th Row.—Purl one, 
knit one to the end. Two 
rows of garter stitch ; finish 
by ten rows of brioche 
stitch, made thus:—Slip 
one, * make one; slip as 
though you were going to 
purl, knit two together, 
continue from *. Work 
the second and all subse¬ 
quent rows in the same 
manner, being careful to 
knit together the made 
stitch and its fellow one 
produced by the two drawn 
together in the previous 
line. The stitch, slipped 
purl fashion, stands out by 
itself as a raised web. Two 
rows of purl. Cast off very 
loosely, and sew the shoe 
together on the wrong side, 
stitch by stitch, tightening 
the heel and toe, to round 
them off better. Impart a 
smart finish by a little 
crochet edging in silk ; one 
chain, one double crochet 
through every other cast¬ 
off stitch. 2nd Row.—One 
treble, six long treble, one 
treble through one chain 
stitch below, one double 
crochet through the next, and so on. A pretty vandyke can also be formed with 
the point neige , making five or six chain between each stitch. 



FIG. 6.—baby’s shoe. 













SOCK AND STOCKING KNITTING . 


75 


Thread a narrow ribbon through the runner and tie in front. 

Night socks can be easily worked, just as ordinary ones, only using much 
coarser needles and wool. However, we will give you two other ways :—i. The 
first one somewhat resembles a slipper. With two wooden needles. No. 7 and 4 
ply fleecy, cast on twenty-nine stitches for the middle of the sole, and for six rows 
increase one at the beginning and end of each needle, to slightly shape both the 
toe and heel end. In the next eight rows increase one at the toe only for every 
other row. You will then have thirty-nine stitches on the needle. Knit twelve 
rows straight; cast off twenty-six; there remain thirteen for toe-cap. With these 
stitches work two rows, decreasing one at the toe end. Knit two other rows, this 
time increasing one at the same point. Twelve rows straight. Decrease one 
again in the two following rows, and increase one in the two next ones. Now cast 
on twenty-six for the opposite side, and work to match until you have reached the 
centre of the sole. Then sew the slipper together. 2. The next sock is rather 
more complicated, for it entirely covers the foot and ankle. With the same wool 
and needles cast on thirty-four stitches for the sole, and for thirteen rows increase 
one at the commencement of each, which will give you forty-seven stitches, and 
will shape both ends. Knit ten plain rows for the centre of the sole, then decrease 
one for thirteen rows, to bring you again to thirty-four stitches. The sole is 
complete. To begin the side of the foot add, for back of heel, fourteen stitches, 
forty-eight in all, and work nine rows, increasing one in each at the toe end. Fifty- 
seven stitches are on the needle. Cast off twenty-four, and on the remaining 
thirty-three knit for the top of the foot twenty rows. Then cast on again twenty- 
four, and reduce at the toe till you have returned to forty-eight. Cast off. For the 
leg, pick up, on three needles, the twenty-four stitches on either side and those of 
the instep. Work two rows, then a line of make one; knit two together for the 
runner; afterwards continue plain until you have reached the intended height of 
the leg. Cast off and sum up the whole. The shrinking of your wool must depend 
either on its quality or on the way the stockings are washed. Grey and undyed 
wools are the least shrinkable. 

The children’s brewers’ caps are worked either in plain knitting or in one purl, 
one plain. Scarlet is the popular colour, but many pretty ones have stripes, three- 
quarter inch wide, in black and yellow, white and blue, blue and red, green and 
heather mixture, &c. First measure the size of the head, and, according to the 
scale of your knitting, cast on the proper number of stitches on three or four 
needles, and knit in rounds like a stocking, allowing about six inches for the brim 
and turnover, and six or seven inches for the cap itself. Then, for the peak, reduce 
for three and a half or four inches at the beginning of each of the needles in every 
other row. Indeed, many of the directions for broad round toes would, I should 
think, answer well for the top, such as the Carlisle, for instance. Crown the whole 
by the orthodox woollen tuft. 

A mitten having a thumb appears to be much in request, and naturally so in 
the winter. To make one on two needles will be found very easy of accomplish¬ 
ment according to this recipe. Cast on a sufficient number of stitches to cover the 
hand well lengthwise. This will depend on the size of materials and needles ; as an 
average say 43. Knit in garter stitch or in long ribs till you have a piece large 
enough not only to cover the back of the hand, but also to go half way round the 
palm, in order to hide the seam that will join the two parts. Having reached the 



76 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


right place for the thumb, finish the row and leave the wool hanging for a while ; 
you will want it again. Take a needle, threaded with wool or cotton, and pass it 
through the last seven stitches; secure this wool, &c., by a knot, to prevent the 
stitches from dropping, and do not touch them again till the thumb be finished. 
There will then remain thirty-six stitches on the needle. Take a fresh ball of wool, 
and with the empty needle draw it through the thirty-sixth stitch to form an extra 
loop. Make five more in a similar manner; these six new stitches will stand for 
the lengthwise foundation of the thumb; the needle will then hold forty-two stitches. 
Now shape the gusset, knit the six stitches, and one more taken off the needle— 
seven in all. Turn, slip the first stitch, and knit the remaining six. Knit back, 
taking another from the needle, making eight. Turn, slip one, and knit seven. 
Continue in this way till twenty-five have been worked off. There will now be 
seventeen left on the needle for the wrist. Having thus finished the thumb you 
must cut off the same number of stitches that you added for the foundation, i.e., six, 
and break the wool. Here put back again the seven stitches left aside, and the 
needle will once more hold its original number—forty-three. Continue knitting 
backwards and forwards as before till you have a sufficient number of rows; cast off 
and sew up the mitten, and afterwards the two selvages of the thumb. 


Section VI.—How to re-foot Stockings. 

Dear me ! whoever would have thought that stocking mending caused such per¬ 
plexity to housewives ! ‘ Do tell me how to re-foot my stockings; I have tried to 

do them by knitting, and have not succeeded.’ ‘ I have a large family of children, 
and they all rub their stockings out at the knees, and wear their toes and heels in 
a distressing manner, while the other part is almost new. Pray advise me what I can 
do, for really the money spent on socks and stockings is quite a ruinous item in my 
housekeeping.’ ‘1 have several pairs of silk and Lisle thread hose with the feet 
very much worn. Is there any place where I can send them to be re-footed ? ’ 

Such are the queries frequently found among the correspondence of the Girls' 
Own Paper. I am sorry to notice that these queries all come from mothers, and 
I have not yet spied one sent by one of our girls, for whom that paper is published, 
as clearly specified by its title. 

It is indeed sad to see so many mothers thus puzzled with a want of almost 
daily occurrence; it shows how their practical education has been neglected, and 
therefore points out the gap to be filled in the new training of the young. One thing 
that particularly strikes my attention is that no one asks the best way to mend—only 
to re-foot or to re-heel. Now, if the stockings were regularly and properly attended 
to, there would certainly not be so much need of re-footing, for, as I have often 
repeated, ‘Prevention is better than cure.’ If you follow the directions given' 
on page 99 about ‘ Stocking Mending,’ you will see how much longer they will 
last. Of course, when the cobble style is adopted it soon renders the garment 
beyond repair. Many people never think of darning their stockings till there is a 
large hole ; then they take cotton ever so much too coarse, either leave no loops at 
all, or leave them too long, and merely carry their stitches round the hole, just to 
have a new break close by, and make darn upon darn anyhow. The result is that 




HOW TO RE-FOOT STOCKINGS. 


77 


the poor wearer suffers dreadfully, and the stockings have soon to be left off. Even 
the most expensive pairs are, in many cases, not better treated. I have seen some 
so shockingly mended that they were the laughing-stock of the people who had to 
renew them, and yet they came from titled ladies. This was no doubt the fault 
of maids who worked for mistresses as ignorant as themselves; every woman 
should understand such homely details, whether she has to do them or merely see 
that they are done. 

After these preliminary remarks I will at once proceed to give a few hints on the 
subject to my young readers—hints that will be equally welcome to their mothers 
and teachers. 

There are four ways of re-footing, viz.:—weaving, grafting, and knitting by hand 
and machine. 

1. Weaving. —I do not recommend this method except for very large quantities. 
Manufacturers seldom care to undertake the task, and moreover the expense is 
scarcely less than for new pairs. On the Continent folks are more practical, and 
sell expressly woven feet ready to be joined to old stockings by grafting seams. 

2. Grafting. —This second process is quite a home one, and before entering 
into particulars I will advise you to read over the explanations on grafting and web- 
stitch, pp. 101,102. Those instructions 
once understood, proceed as follows: 

Cut the decayed foot away across the 


leg, and to do this neatly turn the 
stocking wrong side out, when you 
will be able to follow the circle of 
purls. Make a fresh foot from the leg 
of another stocking, matching as 
nearly as possible in texture, and 
beforehand ripped open at the leg 
seam. Experienced menders cut the 
shape by their eye, but beginners 
must practise by taking patterns of 
the various parts. Separate the worn 
foot in two, and outline on a stiff piece 



FIG. I.—SIDE SEAM. 


1UU w 111 l VV CXL1 V_i. vUliiii'- \v xx f • i . i 

of paper the sole, which reaches from toe to heel. Do the same with the upp r 
part of the foot; this is naturally much longer, extending as it does from the oe 

as high in the leg as necessary to meet the severed part. 

Make the best of vour pieces at disposal as you arrange on them the paper 
patterns, allowing merely side turnings. I need not remind you to keep the we s 
the same way—that is, perpendicular. Now join the two halves by the seam 

^Taking each of them separately, hold the creased edge between the thumb and 
the forefinger of the left hand, the thumb resting on the outside or web surface, the 
first finger keeping down the turning over the wrong or purl side. Define the edge 
all along with a stitch similar to the one worked on Witney blankets, but muci 
closer. To execute this work, from left to right, and first bring the needle out in 
the centre of the crease, and piercing it vertically towards you, take each time 
whole web. Be careful to keep the cotton in front, as for single buttonhole stitc , 
draw out the needle, and repeat to the end. When you have prepared the fo 























78 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


edges—the two of each part — connect them, as explained for the web-patch, i.e., bring 
the two sides face to face, as for sewing, and unite them by passing the needle 
through each opposite loop, still keeping the thread in front, wider the needle, not 
over , as wrongly shown in the diagram, through a slip of the needle. Lastly, flatten 
the turnings by neat herring-bone. This is omitted for very fine silk hose, where 
the turnings are almost imperceptible, and stand smooth by themselves with, 
perhaps, a single stitch run through them. Now for the joining of the toes.. Ravel 
out the loops of each narrow edge, and stitch them together outside, to imitate the 
ridge that you see in every stocking. The process is fully illustrated in the cut, 
where the material has been spread flat, to show better the top and under part of the 
seam. The white raised row marks the meeting of the two looped edges, and the 
enclosing dark lines, the stitching, which, of course, must appear on both sides. 
Unfortunately the needle has been caught, but here any worker can see where the 
mistake lies. 

So far we have the foot ready up to the heel. For this two fresh pieces are now 
needed. Shape them both alike from the worn-out heel sufficiently long to meet 
the cut leg. Do not forget the side turnings, nor the smaller ones for the under 



part. Commence by uniting the two halves, just as you have done for the foot; 
this seam will stand for the one in the centre of the leg. Two other ones, made on 
the sides, connect them with the front of the foot, of which they continue the line 
up the leg. They thus simulate clocks, and, though scarcely seen outside, can be 
rendered still more invisible by embroidery. You have yet two other seams to 
make—i. The one to close the heel, worked exactly like that for the toe (see Fig. 2), 
and also on the right side; 2. The one to unite the heel with the looped edge of 
the sole. 

For this stitch the loops against the heel join, turning. Do not be misled, how¬ 
ever, by the rather indistinct position of the needle, but merely pass it in and out of 
single loops, securing at the same time the back piece, the folded edge of which is 
afterwards herring-boned over, and conceals the stitching. At last your foot and 
ankle are quite ready to be attached to the leg by the circular seam called ‘ graft¬ 
ing,’ and described in the chapter on 1 Stocking Mending,’ already alluded to. It 
will, perhaps, be idle to add that the edges to be joined must both show an 
unbroken circle of open loops, and, if nicely done, there will not be the least trace 
of the grafting on either side. The stitch itself merely requires good sight and a 
little patience. 

I have done my best to be explicit, so I hope I have been well understood by 

































HOW TO RE-FOOT STOCKINGS. 


79 


everybody. . Though hardly known in England, this method is neither new nor 
fanciful, it is extensively used abroad, and constitutes a real business. Decidedly 
it would not be worth while to follow this plan except for thoroughly good stock¬ 
ings, and then it is most satisfactory. ‘ Ah, well! we need not trouble ourselves 
about it,’ joyfully exclaim some indolent girls; ‘ we only wear stockings at 9 d. or 
is. per pair, so the loss is not great when they are past mending.’ Don’t be too 
sure, for I am going to surprise you by showing how the method can be turned to 
account by every class of society, the rich as well as the poor. Have we not all, 
besides stockings, hosiery, such as drawers, vests, jerseys, &c., the web varying 
Irom the common unbleached cotton to the finest silk? When these garments are 
discarded there will still yet be many sound parts fit to be cut up for smaller 
articles. Just guess what they will make—so many serviceable things!' Listen, 
socks and stockings for your little brothers and sisters, and, with the smallest and 
finest pieces, darling little socks for baby and dolly. If contrivances of this kind 
are not needed in your home circle, you must not for that reason neglect them, 
for you can teach the plan to those who are in want of it, and utilise it yourself for 
the poor, whom, I am sure, my young readers never forget, by working for bazaars 
or in attending Dorcas meetings and Working Bees. There are still many other 
trifles besides stockings to be concocted, for charity is inventive, and finds no end 
of uses for left-off clothing. If ever you have the chance to visit some of the 
hospitals, you will be pleased with the delight of the old men when you bring them 
nice cosy nightcaps, and of the old women in receiving their share of mittens and 
cuffs. Remember, too, that these gratifications can be enjoyed with no expense 
whatever, save a little time and trouble. And, by the way, let me also remind you 
not to scamp anything you make for the poor, but do it as carefully as for yourself. 
The ‘ young lady’s gift ’ will be well scrutinised by all the gossips of the neighbour¬ 
hood, and perhaps will be taken as a pattern. Though these good dames cannot do 
beautiful work themselves, they know how to appreciate it. 

However, the art of home stocking making—a coarse one no doubt—is not 
entirely ignored by the English labouring classes. Thus, in Nottingham and other 
towns hosiery web is bought by the yard on market days by the country people fo 
the purpose of making cheap and strong stockings. 

3. Knitting by Hand. —To re-foot stockings by knitting is such an easy 
process that it seems impossible to fail in it, provided, of course, that the worker 
has experience in stocking knitting. The method can be applied to both knitted 
and woven hose. Having taken the faulty stocking, turn it on the wrong side, and 
proceed in this way :—Detach the worn-out foot from the leg by cutting all round 
the same line of purls. Ravel out the wool, silk, &c., on the right side, to obtain 
an edge of loops round the leg, and mount these loops on a special set of very fine 
needles, used merely for the first few rows, and then replaced by others correspond¬ 
ing with the size you require for your webs. This change of needles is indispen¬ 
sable to pick up the loops of the woven stuff, and, above all, of silk and Lisle 
thread fabrics, for which even No. 21 will not always be found small enough. 

When only one of a pair needs re-footing it must answer perfectly to its fellow; 
for instance, the intakes are to be exactly alike, and a Dutch heel cannot be 
expected to match a manufacturer’s. The cotton and needle also must be of the 
exact quality to produce the same web. If both are worn out, the knitter can 
evidently follow her favourite style. 



8o 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


On inquiry I find that paid workers refuse to undertake re-footing stockings by 
knitting, on the plea that the trouble of picking up the fine stitches is too great and 
too trying for the remuneration received. Therefore the only resource is for ladies 
to do them themselves; but to avoid failure they must first thoroughly study the 
intakes, formation, and, in short, the whole management of a stocking. 1 he pick¬ 
ing up stitches of knitted textures requires no alteration, whilst the stitches of 
woven ones, being much closer, have to be gradually lessened by now and then 
knitting two together; in this reduction personal judgment is the only guide. 

4. Knitting by Machine. —As to re-footing by machine, I am afraid this is 
only applicable to hand or machine knitted hosiery, not to woven articles, unless 
perhaps very coarse ones, on account of the size of the needles. 

New heels and new toes seem still more in demand than entire new feet, and 
naturally so, as these are the parts most exposed to wear and tear. To replace 
them, the methods used in re-footing can be employed with but little alteration; 
however, the operation is so slow and fidgety that weaving and machine knitting 
are both out of question. The expense would be as much, if not more, than for 
re-footing, which already is subject to great drawbacks. Hence there only remains 
patching and hand knitting. The former I have so thoroughly explained that I am 
sure any of my young readers will be able to adapt the plan on a smaller scale. For 
instance, in re-toeing, merely turn the foot on the wrong side, and with sharp scissors 
follow the purls, cutting away not only the decayed part, but also the thin rows 
above. Place this severed portion smoothly on a spare piece of web, folded double ; 
cut it exactly to shape, allowing for the side turnings. This will give you two pieces, 
one for the top and another for the sole. 

Perchance the toe you have just removed has been knitted or woven in one 
piece without any seams, but now that you mend the toe by patching you cannot 
get the indispensable tapering unless you split the material. Your patches ready, 
graft both to their respective places, in this wise :—Take each bit separately, and 
ravel out the loops of the widest edge, which loops are to be joined to those of the 
sole or of the upper part of the heel by the seam at present called ‘grafting,’ but 
probably no other than the ‘ stocking-seam,’ always included among the stitches 
of the olden times. Now, with great care, crease down the side turnings, then 
buttonhole them, and afterwards bring them together by passing the needle through 
every loop of the button-hole on each side. If the turnings set fairly flat, pressing 
will be sufficient, but if not, keep them in place by slight herring-boning. This 
finished, turn the stocking on the right side, in order to stitch together the straight 
edges of open loops at the top of the toe. 

As to the new heel, I see nothing fresh to mention, and I must refer you to the 
detailed description of re-footing. 

Now for the knitting; before entering into particulars, let me remark that this 
process can only be tried by a thoroughly good knitter well accustomed to the 
management of a stocking. This, however, does not prevent me from undertaking 
the subject, as, of late, quite a mania for stocking-knitting has revived even in 
fashionable families as well as in schools. Therefore I take it for granted that 
most of our girls have already made one if not more pairs of socks or stockings. 

Suppose you wish to renew a heel, either woven or knitted, your first conside¬ 
ration will be where it begins and finishes. To form any heel, you know that, when 
all the intakes are made, you put half, or nearly half, the stitches on the back or 




HOW TO RE-FOOT STOCKINGS. 


81 


heel-needle, always keeping the seam in the centre. The other two needles in front 
are left aside, unknitted, whilst you work backwards and forwards the required length 
of your favourite heel—the rows on the right side plain with a purl stitch for the 
seam, those on the wrong side purl with a plain stitch for the seam. When you have 
completed a strip, the length of which depends on the chosen form, you have to 
close it, and thus obtain a heel shaped quite independently of the stocking itself 
with the exception of the top. You then proceed to unite the heel with the stocking 
by lifting up and knitting the side stitches, thus joining the front needles, so as to 
bring the work in a circle again, and continue the rounds for the foot. 

Fig. 4 beautifully shows a heel knitted in contrasting colour from the remainder 
of the stocking, purposely to illustrate the distinct formation of the heel and the 
way it can be removed and replaced without much trouble. When I say much 
trouble, I presume, of course, 
the make of the heel to be well 
understood by the worker. 

‘ Ah ! ’ some of the mothers 
of my readers say, with a doubt¬ 
ful shake of the head, ‘it all 
reads very well; but wait till you 
come to do it. I’m sure I’ve 
knitted dozens of stockings, and 
have never yet succeeded in fit¬ 
ting heels. Only the other day 
I tried again on a pair of your 
father’s socks — you remember 
those splendidly knitted ones that 
I bought last year at the bazaar— 
but all to no good. Surely they 
must have been done properly.’ 

Such observations do not sur¬ 
prise me at all. I see failures of 
this kind daily happening to really good workers, while the less experienced often 
get through the task easily. 

‘ Dear me ! What do you mean? You seem to speak in riddles.’ 

Not in the least. I only express commonplace truths. Some persons will 
work, work on like a machine, without stopping a moment to reflect. They can go 
through a deal as long as they do it blindly according to their own way; but let 
them only try the same thing with a little variation, and they will give it up at once. 
Thus our good friend just now complaining has probably knitted ‘ all her dozens of 
stockings 5 with the manufacturer's heel, whereas those she bought had perhaps a 
heart-shaped one, a fact which never struck her mind. Swiftly she went to her task, 
heedless of the difference. You may guess the result, so we can well sympathise 
with her disappointment; sympathy, however, does not excuse. Before cutting away 
her heel, ought she not to have studied its make ? 

Fancy any one persisting in letting a square patch into a heart-shaped hole ! And, 
indeed, the comparison is not exaggerated. Countless failures arise from the 
merest want of thought and sense. 

Evidently the variety existing in heels renders it impossible to explain their 

G 





FIG. 4. —RE-HEELING. 










82 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


renewal stitch by stitch ; but, once having well seized the way in which the heel is added 
to the stocking, you will be able to cut it off and knit it again after its original style. 

To be still more explicit, I will fully explain the re-heeling according to the 
pattern in Fig. 4. For this purpose, I have selected one of the commonest heels for 
a child’s sock, so that the most inexperienced may try it, and see how it works. 

As this is not a knitting lesson, we cannot wade through a whole stocking or 
sock. I will, therefore, imagine that your needles are ready placed for your heel— 
say 27 stitches on the back or heel needle, and 13 on each of the front ones. 
Leave these two last alone ; proceed to knit, on the heel pin, about 22 rows. 
You have then a straight strip, and now, to close, and also turn the heel, drop the 
seam-stitch at the 22nd row by taking two together, leaving 26 on the needle. 
Here begins the cross-band under the heel. Knit 16 rows. Then knit two together, 
turn the work, leaving 8 on the needle without knitting them. For the backward 
row purl 7, purl 2 together, leave 8 at this end also, to match the opposite one. 
Repeat these rows, knitting and purling alternately, working one off the side each 
time two are taken together. The centre band will soon stand out distinctly, and 
you will find no difficulty in the management of the separated side stitches. When 
all are taken up the heel is finished, and only 8 stitches are left on the knitting-pin. 
Fora grown-up person there would be from 14 to 16 stitches. 

Pass on now to the junction of the heel with the body of the stocking. Raise, 
and at the same time knit, the 13 stitches on the left hand of the heel, using the 
needle already carrying the 8 heel stitches. This brings you to one of the front 
pins, from which you take 3 stitches—in all 24—on the needle, which now stands 
for the left side instead of for the back. With a fresh pin knit off the rest of the 
stitches, that is, 10, and also 10 from the following needle, making 20 for this new 
needle, which henceforth will be considered as the front one. With a third needle 
take up the remaining 3 and lift off the 13 stitches on the right hand of the heel, 
also take four of the 8 band stitches. Thus the three needles will each hold 20. 

I think, by this time, you thoroughly understand how the heel is inserted, and 
also how easily it can be severed. When once sure of the lines of the heel you 
proceed to remove it as explained for the web-patch. However, as a guide, I will 
apply the method to the well-known band-heel just described, and also the same as 
exemplified in Fig. 4. 

To commence operations, turn the stocking inside out, and stretching the 
material over the hand, cut along the line where the heel starts, as shown in the 
engraving. With a fine knitting-needle gather up the 27 stitches which have been 
set apart for the heel. Then, passing to the opposite side under the heel, cut the 8 
closing stitches, and pass a cord or needle through the eight corresponding ones of 
the sole, to prevent their dropping. The two horizontal sides once split, unpick the 
perpendicular ones. Why do I say unpick , and not cut ? Just try to guess. 

Don’t you remember that when you raised the 13 stitches on each border of the 
heel you found no open loops, but lifted with your needle the half of the stitch 
slipped in each row, meanwhile knitting it and forming all along a line of purls or 
stitching ? This very line you have to unrip, leaving on the heel its smooth edges or 
selvedges, and on the gusset on the opposite side a Vow of open loops, well indicated 
in the diagram. These loops also need preserving by twine or needles. You now 
have the old heel entirely detached, and the stocking in readiness for the new one to 
be worked exactly after the same form as the one removed. With regard to the: 



HOW TO RE-FOOT STOCKINGS. 


83 


materials, choose short needles as most convenient, and let the thread, wool, or silk 
be slightly finer than that of the old stocking, on account of the usual thinning 
from wear. 

When there are only the eight stitches left on the heel-needle draw it out, and 
also the twine or pin holding the eight corresponding ones of the sole. With a 
sewing-needle and thread to match unite them by a grafting seam (see Fig. 4). Thus 
the top and bottom of the heel are secured. Then, using the same needle, sew up 
the sides; some people, however, knit or crochet them; this much depends on 
personal taste. 

My long descriptions will certainly frighten many young girls always ready to 
shirk anything that calls for the least attention; but the process itself is more quickly 
tried than written down. Indeed, a good glance at the illustration will convey all the 
information of these lengthy lines. 

As already noticed, I have described first a child’s heel, as the quickest 
experimented on. Now I will explain one for a lady’s size. The shape answers 
precisely to that of the woven hosiery, and is therefore called the manufacturer*s 
heel. It is straight, with the slight ordinary curve, and finishes off simply by a ridge. 
A commoner kind consists in a straight piece merely sewn up at the end, but I am 
certain none of my readers would ever reproduce such clumsy unladylike work. Girls 
should always make it a point to choose the most natty and graceful way of doing 
everything, and for this reason I give directions only for the proper manufacturer’s 
heel of a stocking in fine wool or cotton. Is your stocking in good position for the 
heel? You should have twenty-eight on each front needle, and fifty-six on the back 
or heel-one, allowing for a seam stitch in the centre. Such is the general rule, but 
were you working for a high instep you would reserve four or six stitches extra in 
the front. Continue to knit backwards and forwards in the usual way for about 
forty-eight rows, or a length of 2f inches. For this measure, however, you must be 
guided by the size of the worn heel. At this point begin the intakes for the rounding. 
Knit till there are just four stitches left before the seam, then slip one, knit two 
together, draw the slipped stitch over the knitted one, knit one, make the seam 
stitch. Knit one, slip one, knit two together, draw the slipped stitch over, continue 
plain. Repeat the same decrease for the purl row and the four following ones, 
taking care always to have one plain stitch on either side of the seam. After this, 
knit one plain row, dropping the seam stitch by knitting it together with the one on 
each side—in other words, knit together the three central stitches. The heel is now 
ready to be closed, either by single casting off and sewing up, or by the double 
casting off, as used for toes. For this last mode, slip half the stitches on to a second 
needle, and double the two halves so that they lie one against another—the first 
stitch opposite the last, and so on. With another needle cast off two stitches 
together, that is, take a stitch from each pin at the same time. The casting off 
forms an outer ridge. This heel is not only easy to make, but also to renew, for it 
merely has to be seamed to foot and gusset on one line right round. Necessarily the 
re-heeling of woven stockings requires some little judgment as regards the disposition 
of the stitches. They must first be all picked up one by one, but, being too. close 
for ordinary knitting, they have to be discriminately dropped here and there without 
showing it, and in such a way as to leave the heel of the same width and length as 
the old one, though with fewer stitches. 

New toes require but a short mention. Cut off the worn part as high as 

G 2 



84 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK,\ 


* 


necessary, pick up the stitches, and knit afresh according to the former shape, 
whether square, round, or pointed. The under part of the sole has generally the 
most wear, and on this account the Italian method is sometimes adopted, by which 
the foot, being knitted in two distinct portions, can be readily ripped up and 
replaced. 

In some parts of the Continent, too, knitters make a special heel, using foui 
needles to work it wholly on the right side, under the pretence that this kind is more 
convenient to renew. 

However, comparison of diverse plans comes more within the department of 
knitting; my object is rather to offer instructions helpful for the ordinary English 

stocking-making. 

Returning to my old motto, I once more 
repeat, ‘Prevention is better than cure.’ To 
put a stop to the many complaints about re- 
footing and re-heeling, your only sure plan is 
to inspect your stockings in good time. 
Strengthen them directly you spy any thin 
spots, without waiting till holes appear, and, in 
any case, use the web stitch rather than the 
plain darn, so objectionable to tender feet. 
Another remedy is to give additional support 
to the parts most strained. How is this to be 
effected ? Easily enough for the knitter, who 
has but to work in an extra or a thicker strand, 
some preferring a size or two larger, others 
introducing, along with their wool, fine darning 
or knitting cotton, silk, etc. Opinions differ 
much on this subject. 

I would scarcely recommend the mingling 
of two different textures, always difficult to 
combine, and never shrinking equally. A 
more reliable plan is to knit the heel with a 
stronger stitch, the usual way being to slip 
every other stitch of alternate rows, whether 
purl or plain does not signify. This will impart to the heel the appearance of being 
darned across. 

I have also occasionally seen boys’ socks knitted with a twofold heel, either whilst 
making the stocking or after it has had a little wear. To execute it, run a needle at 
the back through the purls at the starting-point of the heel, knit a fresh heel, to serve 
as a lining for the first one; unite their seams by catching together the purl stitches 
with a crochet hook here and there. Either close both heels at the same time, or, if 
the foot be already worked, raise the purls at the end also, and cast off. Then 
neatly sew up the sides. Mothers of romping boys will no doubt be thankful for 
this recipe. It corresponds with the old custom of having heels and toes lined with 
a fine woven stuff, and kept in place by spaced rows of darning. 

In woven stockings both toes and heels are strengthened by ordinary or fancy 
darning. The darn follows the shape, and finishes at will in a straight line or a 
centre point, sometimes projecting, sometimes inverted. The choice must be left to 



FIG. 5.—STRENGTHENING DARN. 































DOUBLE KNITTING. 


85 


the need of the wearer. The twill, wave, and diamond are favourite designs, but I 
object to them because their taken stitches show on the right side. 

Fig* 5> n °t perhaps quite so ornamental, is neater, and quite invisible on the 
reverse side, provided the needle is held in a slant, or not exactly pierced through. 

I might still give you some more hints, but I think you have had a good share, and 
none of you ever thought so much could be said on such a trivial theme as stockings. 
Ah ! you see, there is nothing to be overlooked in this world where ‘ trifles make the 
sum of human things.’ Again, ‘trifles make perfection, and that perfection is 
no trifle.’ 


Section VII. —Double Knitting. 

This term gives rise to many misunderstandings, for it may apply to different ways 
of knitting. To most it conveys the idea of a two-fold knitting, with no wrong 
side. 'Phis answers both with the French recipe besides the one given in the 
Finchley Manual and Madame Gaugain’s book. Work it thus:—Cast on an 
even number of stitches, slip the edge stitch, knit one, wool forward, slip one as 
if for purling, put the wool back. Continue to the end of the row. 2nd row.— 
Repeat these two stitches, taking care to reverse their order, i.e., knit the slipped 
stitches and slip the knitted ones of the previous line. Having finished the 
required length, cast off, and look at your work; you will find both back and 
front reproduce the web. Pull out the material, and you distinctly feel the two 
thicknesses lying purl to purl, and perfectly united on all edges. 

This knitting, extremely light and warm, makes very good blankets, waistcoats, 
comforters, night-socks, &c. Some knitters use the method for thickening heels of 
coarse stockings, but it is not to be recommended, from its liability to ruck up. 
For this purpose, however, the stitch is slightly varied, i.e., the plain stitches are 
knitted from the back instead of in front, a change which renders the web more 
compact. 

In the case of double-knitted heels the thickening stitch, purl one and slip one 
regularly, is often called double knitting, because the loose thread at the back 
of the slipped stitches forms a kind of lining or darn to the work, which must not 
be done too tightly. The same lining distinguishes the backs of diamond-patterned 
gloves and the tartan stockings, which style Scotchwomen also designate as 
‘ double knitting.’ To avoid indecision, it might be advisable to speak of the first 
kind as ‘ double-faced knitting, or knitting with two layers.’ 

Indeed, many needlework terms are similarly open to various meanings. So, 
only the other day, a friend of mine wrote from the country, begging a pattern of 
the true Scotch knitting for a Tam o’ Shanter cap just like those sold in the shops. 
I at once forwarded her not only a specimen, but minute directions for making the 
cap. By the next post my piece of work was returned, with the message that 
surely I could not have taken the trouble to read her query. She had asked for a 
pattern of knitting, and not crochet, and the delay was specially provoking to her, 
as she belonged to a committee that was preparing work for a grand bazaar, and 
her task was to provide the caps in Scotch knitting while another lady had 
undertaken the plain knitting. How annoying ! for she was already late. I could 
not convince my friend that the specimen sent was a correct one until I forwarded 
my ‘ Burns’s own,’ on the lining of which was printed ‘ Real Scotch Knitted.’ 




86 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


This stitch, the fashion of the day, is made thus :—Suppose we begin the 
crown of a Tam o’ Shanter. Make four chain, unite into a circle, then, with a 
loop still on the needle, prick the hook into the first chain, wind the wool round 
it, and draw it through the chain. There are now two loops on the hook; wind 
the wool over again, and draw it through these two loops at once. Work another 
stitch into the same chain, and two each into the next three chains. Draw the 
first stitch through the loop on the needle, and you have a second circle of eight 
stitches. To ‘step up’ for the next circle, make two chain and one stitch into 
the same hole; continue to work two stitches through every one of the preceding 
round, always piercing the hook right under the chain, so that there is no ridge 
between each circle. 


Section VIII. —Plain Darning. 

< Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! those horrid darns again ! I hate the mere name of them. 

I would rather have cheap things, and wear them right out, than make my eyes 
ache over mending nice ones.’ Such are the exclamations of most girls when 
mending-day comes. 

I really cannot understand this general dislike for darning, when it is so easy. 

Most girls take pleasure in making 
guipure and darning-patterns on net, 
which certainly require more care. 
Only try to take half the pains with 
your clothes as with your fancy-work, 
and you will produce a neat repair 
worth looking at, instead of the cobble 
style hastily put out of sight. 

Now I would advise you always 
to get the best materials, for cheap 
things are rarely economical and, be¬ 
sides, induce slovenly habits. Re¬ 
member also ‘ A stitch in time saves 
nine,’ and if you regularly inspect 
your linen you will spy out many a 
thin place, which, strengthened at once, 
will prevent a hole and spare much 
trouble. 

I am going to explain to you a 
few ways of mending, to teach you 
not only to keep your own things in 
order, but also to help your mothers, 
and one day to become good house¬ 
keepers. It is preferable to repair linen before sending it to the wash, except a few 
articles such as stockings, which had better be washed first and then left rough-dry 
to be mangled or ironed after mending. These stockings are generally placed in 
a special basket, ready to be taken up at any odd moment. 




















































































































































































































PLAIN DARNING . 


87 


Look at Fig. 1 and you will see a dam half crossed. ‘ Every one knows how to 
do that,’ you say, ‘ ’tis as easy as A B C.’ Maybe, but there are two ways of doing 
a thing. Just follow my instructions, and see whether you will not learn something 
new. You are aware a good workman must have good tools, so be sure to choose, 
for darning, the proper thread among ‘flourishing’ thread, mending cotton, 
Angola wools, crewels, filoselle, silk ravellings, &c. Just a trifle finer, it should 
match, in colour and make, the strands of the material, and the older the stuff" the 
smoother the thread. The long needle of a proper size to slip through the fabric 
should have an eye large enough to carry the cotton without dragging. Now, a 
thimble on the second finger of your right hand, a pair of scissors on the table, and 
you are ready to set to work. 

Prepare the gap by drawing and securing in place the broken threads, or by 
snipping off all irregularities and neatly paring the edges. Stretch the hole, wrong 
side out, over the first and second fingers of the left hand, and begin, not at the 
very margin, but a few rows inward, for you may be sure that the edges of a gap are 
always very thin. Pointing the needle from the chest, darn upwards, taking up and 
leaving down one or two threads. Pull the cotton out gently, leaving a good end 
but ?io knot , then, turning the needle towards the chest, descend in the same manner, 
picking up the threads passed in the preceding row and vice versd. Allow this 
time a good loop. Follow a similar method in the crossing, but for convenience 
turn the work in the contrary direction, to make these horizontal lines. Commence, 
as nearly as possible, in the centre, and darn the lines the exact length of the 
foundation ones to produce a cross, the best shape for an ordinary darn. Afterwards, 
either split the loops to let the ends lose themselves in the tissue, or leave them 
uncut, if in washing fabrics, till returned from the laundress. 

The hole is now filled up with a nice regular plaiting, which faithfully reproduces 
the linen stitch. You have been doing nothing less than the work of a weaver, for 
the object of darning is to replace the worn-out part by the very stitch of its 
manufacture. Of course there are many different kinds, but the above is the one 
most employed. 

If an accident ever happens to costly and delicate materials, you can repair it 
in a manner quite invisible. For this you had better take ravellings of the stuff 
itself, and lay the ground on the wrong side, but, instead of leaving loops and 
darning backwards and forwards, cut the thread at each row, not to reverse the 
needle, and afterwards secure the long ends by light basting, in case they work out. 
Make the crossing on the right side, to follow better the threads. Such darns, 
being rather trying to the sight, must always be tacked on green paper or 
waxed cloth. 

You will often, too, meet with speckled fabrics to repair, and if you darn with a 
single tint it will look nothing but a botch. Notice, then, carefully which is the 
shade of the ground and of the crossing, and try to match them as well as possible. 
Checks in two colours require the blocks to be alternately plain and mottled. To 
produce this, for instance, with pink and myrtle silks, cottons, etc., make twelve 
rows in each hue. Repeat this for the crossing, and you will have four squares—two 
dotted and two plain—/.<?., one rose and one green. 

With large darns it is more handy to tack them on brown paper or patent cloth, 
while stockings needing repair are turned inside out, the left hand slipped through 
the leg, and the worn place held stretched over the first three fingers. Isn’t it 



88 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


tiresome to mend romping boys’ stockings ? To lighten the task a wee bit, in Fig. 2 
I give you the secret of darning them extra strong, viz., by doing the crossing on the 
bias instead of straight; starting from the top corner with a single stitch, the lines 
gradually increase to the centre, from whence they decrease in the same proportion. 
Thus, instead of a cross you will have a square. Try this plan for your little 



brother’s socks or knickerbocker stockings, and you will find that they last nearly 
twice as long. 

But, as I have already told you, ‘ Prevention is better than cure,’ and you can 
easily avoid ugly holes by looking at your things each week as they come from the 
laundress. If you want to be a good housekeeper you will do well also, when there 

is a regular house-cleaning, to assist 
mother in examining the carpets, curtains, 
chair-covers, etc., for I need not tell you 
that repairs are needed, not merely in 
washing materials, but in all those subject 
to wear and tear. You have most likely 
noticed that in all textures the threads 
run in two different ways. Look again 
at Fig. 1, and you will see that the straight 
foundation threads are laid first, just as 
the weaver does in his frame for his 
‘ woof’; afterwards they are interlaced 
by the crossing ones, or ‘ warp.’ When 
both these sets of threads are broken a 
hole is formed, but if only one of them has thinned you can replace it by a single 
darning, the edge of which need not, as in the hole, follow a regular line; in fact, 
the mending shows less if sloped like Fig. 4. Fig. 3 renews the ‘woof,’ and is 









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FIG. 4. —SLANTWISE DARN. 









































































































































































































































































































































































































































FANCY DARNING. 


89 


illustrated on the wrong side with loops; Fig. 4 replaces the ‘ warp’ with the loops 
concealed at the back, whilst the needle, brought in front, follows the lines. This 
mode of making the darn is specially used for coloured and fancy stuffs. 

Befoie finishing, I must say a word or two on ‘ fine drawing’ or cloth seaming. 
Do not run away with the idea that this is exclusively a tailor’s work, for young 
gills should be proud to show their skill on their father’s clothes, and on their own 
cloth costumes, now so fashionable. Cloth is apt to slit; and to join it again, 
invisibly, first chalk round the rent, then rest the edges on your fingers, and bring 
them together on the wrong side by short rows of darning in fine silk, taken 
only half way through, so that the stitches disappear in the pile and under the 
pressing. 

This repair also answers for velvet and plush, but is not so imperceptible, because 
the backs of these stuffs are quite smooth. 

Now, with these few explanations, I am sure my readers are going at once to 
try the various darns, first on a coarse piece of material, and then make a pretty 
sampler of them, to keep in their workbox as a guide whenever they set to their 
mending task. 


Section IX.— Fancy Darning. 

Ordinary darning, as you are all well aware, consists in the imitation of linen 
weaving, by passing over one thread and under one, to form minute, almost 
imperceptible squares. This mode of mending is often, for rapidity, made less 
precise by missing two or three stitches. Fancy darning, however, is more compli¬ 
cated, as it comprises the reproduction of different styles of weaving. It includes 
the hosiery or stocking web, the small and classical designs of old, covering the 
linen ground with a series of long straight stitches, which delineate the pattern by 
crossing over and under an irregular number of threads, besides the damask with 
its ground intersected by diagonal lines, obtained, like some other twills, by darning 
over four and under one, with this distinction, that the damask twill leaves a thread 
between at every line, whereas the ordinary twill forms a continuous streak, each 
stitch touching the other. Since writing this section I have unravelled numerous 
specimens of damask, to discover some easy and quick patterns for beginners, and 
have come to the conclusion that it is perfectly impossible to reproduce the designs 
stitch by stitch. The round threads of modern napery are so clotted together by 
the strength of steam power, that with the finest needle and cotton scarcely a 
quarter of the pattern can be represented in its corresponding space. Hence it is 
best to practise the two varieties of the stitch which produce the different effects of 
light and shade, and then work out the design in the best way possible, guided by 
the eye. In this case it is essential to keep the pattern in front of you, and to work 
upwards with the needle from you, breaking the thread at each row, to save the 
shifting of the work. By all means avoid the usual ridge of ends on both sides by 
finishing off the rows irregularly. 

We have already made some acquaintance with plain darning and stocking 
mending, these being the two indispensable modes of repairing. Bear in mind, 
though, their mutual invention dates from very distant periods. To the early 
Egyptians we owe the manufacture of linen, while the stocking-frame has only been 





90 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


known since the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Pharaoh, we read, ‘ arrayed Joseph in 
vestures of fine linen ’ (Gen. xli. 42); but Western people seem not to have been 
so favoured, as Englishmen did not indulge in the luxury of linen shirts before 
1492, when Flemish weavers established themselves in Great Britain to teach the 
art, under the protection of Henry III. In 1589 the Rev. Mr. Lee, of Nottingham, 
found out the secret of imitating the web of knitting stockings in a frame, just 
twenty-five years after we had learnt to knit them with needles. This last-named 
discovery, it generally appears, hailed from Mantua, in Italy, where it had been 
slily studied by an English apprentice-boy, who brought home his precious know¬ 
ledge, and on his arrival presented to the Earl of Pembroke a pair of worsted 
knitted stockings—the first of this description seen in this country. On the other 
hand, it is also reported that, in 1560, Mrs. Montague offered to her sovereign, 
Elizabeth, a pair of black silk knitted stockings, probably of Spanish make and 
material. The difference in date is of little moment; evidently the occupation of 
hand-knitting came from the South, and silk stockings were the specialty of Spain, 
where silk at that time abounded. 

Ah! it would indeed be interesting to follow, step by step, the progress of 
textiles; impossible, though, to dive into such investigations, for our allotted space 
must be devoted to the practical rather than to the historical side of the question. 
However, I strongly recommend all needlework teachers to render that great bore 
—the mending class—more attractive by a chat on the gradual spread of these 
textiles. This term, in its widest acceptation, refers to every kind of stuff, no 
matter its material, wrought in the loom. A lively survey of this kind would soon 
transform the proverbial dry task into a delightful lesson, full of moral bearing. Our 
own annals alone show the enormous labour spent in bygone years with spinning 
from a distaff, and weaving with primitive hand-looms. What real martyrdom, too, 
was suffered by those who, at the cost of fortune and life, offered to the world 
improvements which slowly and surely have conduced to all the comforts enjoyed in 
the nineteenth century—comforts denied even to kings and queens of yore. On 
hearing these details of self-help, self-sacrifice, and perseverance, what pupil will not 
set to work with alacrity and thankfulness ? Will it not seem to her quite a pastime 
to reproduce so quickly and easily a fabric which, in its origin, called for an untold 
amount of energy and inventive power ? 

The first diversity brought to the linen consisted in dyeing the texture either in 
one unbroken colour or in stripes—a process for which Britons held the palm. 

The next phase resulted in obtaining a woven pattern by regular divisions of 
coloured threads. Checks naturally suggested themselves at the outset, and although 
invented by the Gauls, there is every reason to believe that these were the funda¬ 
mental designs from which arose the Scotch plaids, universally worn throughout the 
island from the second century. Boadicea, the warrior queen, always garbed herself 
in a tunic of native woollen stuff, chequered all over with many colours. 

Accordingly, the second lesson in darning always runs upon the elements of fancy 
darns—coloured blocks and stripes—still woven on the principle of take one, leave 
one. There is little to be said about these series, the squares having been already 
explained in the previous section, and the stripes being worked on a similar principle. 
Matching of colour and size of thread constitute such important points of mending 
that, as a rule, the darn is scarcely a success unless ravellings of the very stuff itself 
are employed. 





FANCY DARNING . 


9 i 



Gradually, patterns have been introduced, all of them small and geometrical, and 
invariably retaining the plain ground. These designs were primarily woven in 
costly silk fabrics alone, and passed in the early Middle Ages by the name of 
dicispron —a Byzantine-Greek word, which means ‘ I separate,’ to signify what 
distinguishes or separates itself from things around it, as eveiy pattern does on one- 
coloured silk. From the Latin adaptation diasper we have ‘ diaper.’ 

Other authorities give a much more recent origin to the word, which they derive 
from Ypres, in Flanders, a town wherein the same style of weaving was carried on, 
but in flaxen thread. The silken fabric fitly served, in mediaeval times, for expen¬ 
sive dresses and furniture, while its flax imitation provides the modern towelling and 
napery. 

No better example of the diapered stuffs could be shown than the ‘bird’s eye’ 
(Fig. 1), a pattern ever new and popular, albeit so many centuries old. Needle 
and loom alike have vied in representing its spotted diamonds or lozenges. The 
more antiquated the embroidery, the more constantly is the ‘ bird’s eye ’ met with 
for grounding and 
garments, either 
wrought in silks or 
artificially raised 
over cord, and glit¬ 
tering with metallic 
thread. Even in our 
days the veriest child 
is taught to repro¬ 
duce the speckled 
diamond on her can¬ 
vas-work, and every 
branch of industry 
still retains the tiny 
linear figure. It is 
really so familiar, 
that it has been 

thought as well to illustrate it here under a more uncommon aspect—viz., in 
a slantwise direction, after which way it is more likely to be seen in needlework 
and fancy textures cut on the bias, than in linen. Any one can, of course, readily 
follow it in its straight lines (Fig. 1). 

To make it, lay a foundation of thirty-three threads, which, being diagonal, 
mount one strand higher at one end and one thread lower at the other in each row. 

For the Crossi?ig darn horizontally, as usual, but, to keep the bias slant one 
thread to the left at each line. The pattern in the cut starts at the centre of the 
diamond:— 

1 st Row.—Under 1 and over 3, 8 times; under one. 

2nd Row.—Under 2, over 5 ; under 3 and over 5, 3 times; under 2. 

3rd Row.—Over 1, under 2, over 3; under 5 and over 3, 3 times; under 2, 
over 1. 

4th Row.—Over 2 ; under 2, over 1, under 2, and over 3, 3 times; under 2, 
over 1, under 2, over 2. 

5th Row.—Over 3 and under 3, 5 times; over 3. 






92 


the girds own indoor book. 


6th Row.—Same as first. 

7 th Row.—Like 5 th. 

8th Row.—Agrees with 4th. 

Continue thus until the eleventh row, which, by this order, matches the first 
again. The nursery diaper is worked on exactly the same plan, but its diamond is 
smaller, and has no spot or eye in the centre. 

Soon the diaper patterns were superseded by bolder damask figures, woven on 
an apparently speckled ground obtained by passing under 4 threads and over 1. 
The designs, worked out, reversed by passing over 4 and under 1, impart a more 
raised and glistening effect, although the contrary order often occurs. Whatever 
the complication of pattern, these two changes of stitch constitute the whole method 
—not a very puzzling one, it must be acknowledged; indeed, there is scarcely any 
fancy work in which so little variation is introduced. The only drawback is the 
tediousness of counting the threads, and the management of the pattern, for we are 

far from the stereotyped set of de¬ 
signs, which menders usually know by 
heart. Almost every table-cloth now 
displays some fresh figuration, in the 
guise of elaborate baskets of flowers, 
heads, animals’ crests, mottoes, land¬ 
scapes, and endless scrolls. Such in¬ 
tricacies I would certainly own as 
being beyond any woman not possessed 
of a good eye for drawing and a rather 
exceptional share of patience. As one 
of the simplest examples of practising 
the damask stitch, I have selected the 
illustration of the Maltese cross (Fig. 2), 
for, in fact, any child, without the 
slightest knowledge of drawing, can 
obtain this figure in a minute by 
folding a square of paper into a 
triangle, and then into a triangle 
again. When the square is open it 
will show four creases, which, split up 
almost to the centre, divide into the four flat arms of the cross, putting one in 
mind of the paper windmill that little ones often contrive to have some fun with 
in windy weather. Nothing will prove more easy than the reproduction of this 
model in any stitch, whether cross-twill, damask, &c. A good expedient is 
to practise it first on coarse canvas, or in Kindergarten plaiting in paper or 
straw. 

To work the Maltese cross, lay a foundation of 45 threads, across 75 threads, to 
be divided thus: 15 on either side darned for the border, to secure the silk or 
cotton, and 45 passed loosely over to allow for the square of the crossing. You 
have well understood that there are only two stitches in damask darning—one for 
the ground, and one for the pattern. In Fig. 2, the foundation is under 4 and over 
1, while the intersecting threads, on the contrary, run over 4 and under 1. These 
modes could quite as correctly be reversed. 



















































































FANCY DARNING. 


93 


Crossing. —Allow the same number of threads for the darned border. Cross the 
45 loose threads thus :— 

ist Row.—Under 3; over 4 and under 1, 7 times; over 4, under 3. 

2nd Row and every alternate one are returning rows, and start, of course, from 
the left-hand side.—Over 1, under 3, over 1, under 1; over 4 and under 1, 6 times; 
over 5, under 3, over 1. 

3rd Row.—Over 2, under 3, over 1; under 1 and over 4, 6 times; under 1, 
over 3, under 3, over 2. 

4th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 1, under 3, over 3, under 1 ; over 4, and under 
1, 5 times ; over 4, under 3, over 3. 

5th Row.—Under 1, over 3, under 3, over 3; under 1 and under 4, 5 times ; 
under 1, over 2, under 3, over 4. 

6th Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 2, under 3; over 4 and under 1, 5 times; 
over 4, under 3, over 2, under 1, over 2. 

7th Row.—Over 4, under 1, over 1, under 3, over 5; under 1 and over 4, 4 
times ; under 1, over 1, under 3, over 5, under 1. 

8th Row.—Over 3, under 1, over 3, under 3, over 3; under 1 and over 4, 
3 times; over 6, under 3, over 5, under 4, over 1. 

9th Row.—Over 3, under 1, over 4, under 3, over 2; under 1 and over 4, 
3 times; under 1, over 5, under 3, over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 1. 

10th Row.—Over 4, under 1, over 4, under 3, over 2; under 1 and over 4, 3 
times; under 1, over 3, under 3, over 3, under 1, over 4, under 1. 

nth Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2, under 3; over 4 and 
under 1, 3 times; over 4 under 3, over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2. 

12th Row.—Under 1, over 4, under 1, over 5, under 3, over 1 ; under 1, and 
over 4, twice; under 1, over 5, under 3, over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 4. 

13th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 5, under 3, over 1; under 1, 

and over 4, twice; under 1, over 3, under 3, over 3, under 1, over 4, under 1, 

over 3. 

14th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 1, under 3, 

over 5, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2, under 3, over 4, under 1, over 4, under 1, 

over 3. 

15th Row.—Under 1, over 4, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 3, under 3, over 3, 
under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2, under 3, over 4, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 4. 

16th Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2, under 3, over 4, under 1, 

over 4, under 3, over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2. 

17th Row.—Over 4 and under 1, 3 times; over 1, under 3, over 5, under 1, 
over 1, under 3, over 5 ; under 1 and over 4, twice; under 1. 

18th Row.—Over 3 ; under 1 and over 4, twice; under 1, over 3, under 3, over 
5 ; under 1 and over 4, twice ; under one, over 1. 

19th Row.—Over 3, under 1, over 4 and under 1, twice; over 4, under 3, over 
3, under 3, over 1; under 1 and over 4, 3 times; under 1, over 1. 

20th Row.—Over 4 and under 1, 3 times; over 4, under 3, over 1, under 3, over 
3, under 1 ; over 4 and under 1, 3 times. 

21 st Row.—Over 2, under 1; over 4 and under 1, 3 times; over 2, under 5, 
over 2 ; under 1 and over 4, 3 times, under 1, over 2. 

22nd Row.—Under 1 and over 4, 3 times; under 1, over 5, under 3, over 1, 
under 1; over 4 and under 1, 3 times; over 4. 




94 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


Centre. —23rd Row.—Over 1 ; under 1 and over 4, 3 times; under 1. over 5, 
under 1, over 3 ; under 1 and over 4, 3 times; under 1, over 3. This gives a 
speckle in the centre. 

24th Row.—Over 1, under 1; over 4 and under 1 three times ; over 4, under 3, 
over 2, under 1; over 4, under 1, 3 times ; over 3. 

25th Row.—Under 1 and over 4, 4 times, under 5, over 5 ; under 1 and over 4, 
3 times. 

26th Row.—Over 2, under 1 ; over 4 and under 1, 3 times; over 1, under 3, 
over 1, under 3, over 1 ; under 1 and over 4, 3 times; under 1, over 2. 

27th Row.—Over 4 and under 1, 3 times; over 3, under 3, over 3, under 3, 
over 2 ; under 1 and over 4, 3 times : under 1. 

28th Row.—Over 3 ; under 1 and over 4, twice ; under 1, over 3, under 3, over 
5, under 3, over 5 ; under 1 and over 4 twice; under 1, over 1. 

29th Row.—Over 3 ; under 1 and over 4, twice; under 1, over 2, under 3, over 
4, under 1, over 2, under 3; over 4 and under 1, 3 times; over 1. 

30th Row.—Over 4 and under 1, twice; over 5, under 3, over 1, under 1, over 

4, under 1, over 2, under 3 ; over 4 and under 1, 3 times. 

31st Row.—Over 3; under 1 and over 4, twice ; under 1, over 1, under 3, over 

5, under 1, over 5, under 3, over 1, under 1 ; over 4, and under 1, twice; over 2. 

32nd Row.—Under 1 and over 4, twice; under 1 and over 2, under 3; over 4 
and under 1, twice; over 3, under 3, over 3 ; under 1 and over 4, twice. 

33rd Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 5, under 3, over 1, under 1 ; 
over 4, and under 1, twice ; over 3, under 3, over 3, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 3. 

34th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 4, under 3, over 2 ; under 1 
and over 4, 3 times; under 3, over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 3. 

35th Row.—Under 1 and over 4, twice; under 3, over 2 ; under 1 and over 4, 

3 times; under 1, over 1, under 3, over 5, under 1, over 4. 

36th Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 1, under 3, over 5 ; under 1 
and over 4, twice; under 1, over 5, under 3, over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2. 
37th Row.—Over 4, under 1, over 3, under 3, over 3; under 1 and over 4, 

4 times; under 3, over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1. 

38th Row.—Over 3, under 1, over 3, under 3, over 3; under 1 and over 4, 
4 times; under 1, over 1, under 3, over 5, under 1, over 1. 

39th Row.—Over 3, under 1, over 2, under 3 ; over 4, and under 1, 5 times; 
over 2, under 3, over 4, under 1, over 1. 

40th Row.—Over 5, under 3, over 1, under 1; over 4, and under 1, 5 times ; 
over 2, under 3, over 4, under 1. 

41st Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 1, under 3, over 5, under 1 ; over 4 and 
under 1, 4 times; over 5, under 3, over 4. 

42nd Row.—Over 3, under 3 ; over 4 and under 1, 6 times; over 3, under 3, 
over 3. 

43rd Row.—Over 2, under 3, over 1, under 1 ; over 4 and under 1, 6 times; 
over 3, under 3, over 2. 

44th Row.—Over 1, under 3, over 2 ; under 1 and over 4, 7 times; under 3, 
over 1. 

45th Row.—Under 3, over 2; under 1 and over 4, 7 times ; under 1, over 1, 
under 3. 

Do not be frightened at this lengthy description ; when once you have begun it 



FANCY DARNING. 


95 


you will not find it half so puzzling as it seems. Once accustomed to the run of 
the ground, there will be no need to look at the directions, stitch by stitch, for your 
eye will guide. Though this pattern is a very easy one, I strongly advise you not 
to make your first experiment on it, but begin by practising each stitch separately, 
and then together, in the antique block pattern. The old damier jleuri , or ‘ floriated 
check ’ (Fig. 3), offers a rather more complicated arrangement of checks, with a 
conventional flower of 4 petals in the shape of a cross, with blocks radiating around 
The pattern comprehends 45 threads square, divided each way into 4 blocks of 10 
threads square, with an intervening centre one of half the width—/.<?., 5 threads 
wide by 10 threads long. Lay the foundation as for the Maltese cross, allowing 
15 threads at each end, leaving 
the 45 threads stretched over 
the centre space to be darned 
in the pattern. 

Crossing. —In the first set , of 
four checks and a half, the stitch 
changes four times, which, in the 
following directions, will be 
marked by stars. 

1st Row.—Under 3, over 1, 
under 4, over 1, under 1*, over 
1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 
3% under 3, over 1, under 1*, 
over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, 
over 3*, under 3, over 1, under 
4, over 1, under 1. 

2nd Row Returning.— Under 
4, over 1, under 4, over 1*, 
under 1, over 4, under 1, over 
4% under 4, over 1*, under 1 and 
over 4 twice*, under 4 and over 
1 twice. 

3rd Row.—Under 2, over 1, under 4, over 1, under 2*, over 2, under 1, over 4, 
under 1, over 2*, under 2, over 1, under 2*, over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 
2*, under 2, over 1, under 4, over 1, under 2. 

4th Row.—Over 1 and under 4, twice*; over 4 and under 1, twice*; over 1, 
under 4*, over 4, and under 1 twice'* - ; under 1, and over 4 twice*. 

5th Row.—Under 1, over 1, under 4, over 1, under 3*, over 3, under 1, over 4, 
under 1, over 1*, under 1, over 1, under 3*, over 3, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 
1*, under 1, over 1, under 4, over 1, under 3. 

6th Row.—Like 1st read backwards. 

7th Row.—Like 2nd read backwards. 

8th Row.—Like 3rd read backwards. 

9th Row’.—Like 4th read backwards. 

10th Row.—Like 5 th read backwards. 

Second Set.— 1st Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 3*, under 3, 
over 1, under 4, over 1, under 1*, over 1, under 1, over 3*, under 3, over 1, under 
4, over 1, under 1*, over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 3. 



fig. 3. 

































































































































96 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 







■'/srr/, 


•////> 


tow/ ia 


,f /'///77A 


2nd Row.—Under i, over 4, under 1, over 4% under 4, and over 1 twice*, 
under 1, over 4*; under 4 and over 1 twice*; under 1 and over 4 twice. 

3rd Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2*, under 2, over 1, under 4, 
over 1, under 2*, over 2, under 1, over 2*, under 2, over r, under 4, over 1, under 
2*, over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2. 

4th Row.—Over 4, and under 1 twice*; over 1, and under 4 twice*; over 4, 
under 1*, over 1 and under 4 twice*; over 4 and under 1, twice. 

5th Row.—Over 3, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 1*, under 1, over 1, under 4, 
over 1, under 3*, over 3, under 1, over 1*, under 1, over 1, under 4, over 1, under 
3*, over 3, under 1, over 4, under r, over 1. 

The 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th rows agree with the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 

5 th rows, read backwards, 
as in the 1st set. 

Centre .—Half blocks. 
Only 5 rows are required. 
Work exactly like the first 
5 rows of the First Set. 

Third Set. — Corre¬ 
sponds to the Second Set. 

lourth Set .—Agrees 
with the First Set. 

The other cut (Fig. 
4) exhibits one of the 
greatest difficulties of 
damask darning—a diffi- 


SK 'SSs MU'X/s 3W '777, 

is. '////"////, ks /f//r/7i^7, 

jos ci/r "/7r /////j* 9/r / 77/// ng 'f'77s/ • 

wsksl''// "///'/77/'/ N3 '"TF/SsVL"/, 


culty which the designer 


FIG. 4. 


has not well understood. 
Ignorant of darning, he 
little thought that the 
omission even of a line 
could very much alter the 
plan, therefore I must ask 
you to be guided more 
by the description than 
by the illustration. The 
delineation of the circle 
always proves trouble¬ 
some, and in this case 

still more so, when it has to be shaped by two stitches running in different directions. 
Here, especially, will the true eye be indispensable. Naturally spots affect all 
manner of sizes and positions. Some are large and scantily strewn, while others 
are very small and closely grouped. Ours have medium proportions, extending 
over 25 threads, and each separated by 3 lines of plain damask stitch. 

Lay a foundation of 52 rows, darning 15 threads, as usual, for the border, 
ist Row.—Over 3, under 1 ; over 4 and under 1, twice; over 2, under 4; over 
1 and under 4, twice; over 1, under 5, over 3, under 1, over 7, under 1, 
over 4. 

2nd Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 6, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 1, under 2, 










































































































































FANCY DARNING. 


97 


over i; under 4 and over 1, 3 times; under 3, over 3 ; under 1 and over 4, twice; 
under 1, over 1. 

3rd Row.—Over 4 and under 1, twice ; over 4, under 2 ; over 1 and under 4, 
4 times; over 4 and under 1, twice; over 2, under 1, over 3. 

4th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 6, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2, under 1, 
over 1; under 4 and over 1, 3 times; under 4, over 2 ; under 1 and over 4, twice; 
under 1, over 2. 

5th Row.—Under 1 and over 4, 3 times: under 2, over 1 ; under 4 and over 1, 
3 times; under 4; over 4 and under 1, 3 times. 

6th Row.—Over 2 ; under 1 and over 4, twice; under 1, over 3 ; under 4 
and over 1, 3 times ; under 5, over 2 ; under 1 and over 4, twice ; under 1, over 3. 

7th Row.—Over 1, under 1; over 4 and under 1, twice; over 5, under 2, 
over 1 ; under 4 and over 1, twice; under 6, over 1, under 1 ; over 4 and under 1, 
twice ; over 4. 

8th Row.—Over 1; under 1 and over 4 twice, under 1, over 5, under 2 and 
over 1 ; under 4 and over 1 twice, under 4, over 3 ; under 1 and over 4, 3 times. 

> 9th Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 4 and under 1, twice ; over 4, under 3, 
over 1 and under 4, twice ; over 1, under 5, over 2, under 1, over 4 and under 1, 
twice; over 3. 

10th Row.—Under 1; over 4 and under 1, twice; over 7, under 5 ; over 1 and 
under 4, twice; over 3, under 1 ; over 4 and under 1, 3 times. 

nth Row.—Over 3, under 1; over 4 and under 1, 3 times ; over 1, under 1; 
over 1 and take 4, twice; over 1, under 1, over 3, under 1, over 2, under 1 ; over 4 
and under 1, twice ; over 2. 

12th Row.—Over 4 and under 1 ; over 4 and under 1, 3 times ; over 4, under 
3, over 1, under 4, over 1, under 2, over 5, under 1 ; over 4 and under 1, twice; 
over 4. 

13th Row.—Over 4 and under 1, 4 times; over 2, under 5, over 1, under 3, 
over 2, under 1, over 6, under 1 ; over 4 and under 1, twice; over 1. 

, 14th Row.—Over 3, under 1, and over 4 twice; under 1 and over 2, under 1, 
over 5, under 7, over 7, under 1, over 2; under 1 and over 4, twice; under 1, 
over 2. 

15th Row.—Under 1 and over 4, twice; under 1 and over 6, under 1 and 
over 2, under 1, over 5, under 1, over 7, under 1, over 6; under 1 and over 4, 
twice; under 1. 

16th Row.—Here commences the row of complete spots which stand on either 
side of the half one, with which the darn begins. Over 2, under 1 and over 4, 
under 1, over 3, under 4, over 4, under 1, over 1, under 1, over 6, under 1, over 6, 
under 4, over 5, under 1, over 3, under 1, over 3. 

17th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 3, under 3, over 1, under 5, 
over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 1, under 1, over 5, under 9, over 4, under 1, 
over 4. 

18th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 1, under 3, over 1, under 1, 
over 1, under 5, over 1, under 1, over 6, under 1, over 4, under 3, over 1, under 4, 
over 1, under 3, over 3, under 1, over 4. 

19th Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 4, under 2; over 1 and under 4, twice ; over 
1, under 1, over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 1, under 1, over 2, under 4, over 
1, under 6, over 1 ; under 1 and over 3, twice. 

H 



9 8 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


20th Row.—Under i, over 4, under 1, over 1, under 3, over 1, under 1, over r, 
under 4, over 1, under 3, over 5, under 1, over 4, under 3 ; over 1 and under 4 , 
twice; over 1, under 1, over 5, under 1. 

21st Row.—Over 3, under 1, over 2, under 4 ; over and under 4, twice ; over 1 
and under 1, twice; over 4, under 1, over 1, under 2, over 1, under 4, over 1, under 
6, over 1, under 1, over 3, under 1, over 2. 

22nd Row.—Over 4, under 5, over 1, under 1, over 1; under 4 and over 1, 
twice; under 1, over 2, under 1, over 3; under 4 and over 1, 3 times; under 3, 
over 3, under 1, over 1. 

23rd Row.—Over 4, under 2; over 1 and under 4, 3 times; over 4 and under 
1, twice; over 4; under 4 and over 1, twice; under 6, over 1, under 1, over 3, 
under 1, over 1. 

24th Row.—Over 3, under 5, over 3, under 1, over 3 ; under 4 and over 1, 
twice; under 4, over 3, under 4 and over 1, 3 times ; under 5, over 1, under 1, 
over 2. 

25th Row.—Under 1, over 3 ; under 1 and over 1, twice ; under 4 and over 1 , 

3 times; under 1, over 1, under 1, over 2, under 1, over 1; under 4 and over 1, 
twice ; under 6, over 1, under 1, over^3, under 1. 

26th Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 1, under 5, over 1; under 4 and over i r 
twice ; under 4 and over 3 ; under 4 and over 1, 3 times ; under 7, over 3. 

27th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 2, under 2, over 1, under i, over 1 ; under 4 
and over 1, twice; under 4, over 4, under 3 ; over 1 and under 4, 3 times; over 1, 
under 2, over 4. 

28th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 3, under 3, over 1 ; under 4 and over 1, 
twice; under 4, over 3, under 1, over 1, under 2, over 1, under 4, under 1 ; under 

4 and over 1, twice; under 6, over 5. 

29th Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 1, under 3, over 1, under 1, over 1 ; under 4 
and over 1, twice; under 4, over 4, under 3; over 1 and under 4, twice; over 1, 
under 7, over 3. 

30th Row.—Under 1, over 3, under 1, over 1, under 1 ; over 1 and under 4, 

3 times; over 1, under 1, over 2, under 1, over 1, under 1 ; over 1 and under 4, 

3 times ; over 1 and under 1, twice; over 3, under 1. 

31st Row.—Over 3, under 7 ; over 1 and under 4. twice; over 1, under 3, over 
4; under 4 and over 1, 3 times; under 5, over 1, under 1, over 2. 

32nd Row.—Over 5, under 1, over 1 ; under 4 and over 1, 3 times; under 2, 

over 1, under 1, over 3; under 4 and over 1, 3 times; under 3, over 3, under 1, 

over 1. 

33rd Row.—Over 5, under 1 ; over 1 and under 4, 3 times; over 1 and under 
1, twice; over 4 ; under 4 and over 1, 3 times; under 3, over 3, under 1, over 1. 

34th Row.—Over 3, under 2, over 1 ; under 4 and over 1, 3 times; under 2, 
over 1, under 1, over 5, under 2, over 1; under 4 and over 1, twice; under 3, over 
3, under 1, over 2. 

35th Row.—Under 1, over 3, under 1, over 2, under 5, over 1, under 4, over 1, 
under 4, under 3, under 1, over 4; under 4 and over 1, 3 times; under .2, over 4, 
under 1. 

36th Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 3, under 3, over 1; under 4 and over 1, 
twice; under 1, over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2, under 5, over 1, under 4, 
over 1, under 2, over 4, under 1, over 3. 



SIV/SS DARNING. 


99 


37th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 2, under 4, over 1, under 4; 
over i and under 1, twice; over 4, under 1, over 5, under 3 ; over 1 and under 4, 
twice; over 2, under 1, over 4. 

38th Row.—Over 1, under 1, over 4, under 1 ; over 1 and under 5, twice ; over 
3, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 5, under 9, over 5, under 1, over 4. 

39th Row.—Over 2, under 1, over 4, under 1, over 4, under 4, over 6, under 1, 
over 4, under 1, over 6, under 9, over 5, under 1, over 3. 

40th Row.—Under 1, over 4, under 1, over 5, under 4, over 4, under 1, over 1, 
under 1; over 4 and under 1, twice; over 8 and under 1, over 5, under 1, over 4, 
under 1. 

Darn 3 rows in the ground-stitch, and then start the next spot just between the 
two above, following the same method. 

‘ Damask ’ has been thus named from Damascus, in Syria, the town wherein it 
was first manufactured. The fabric soon spread over Europe, and was brought by 
Flemish weavers into England in 1573, where it is now made to perfection. Thus, 
to the same sixteenth century we owe the introduction of linen shirts, woven and 
knitted stockings, diapers and damasks—all materials so conducive to health, clean¬ 
liness, and comfort. Yet, as already alluded to, our forefathers, who have bequeathed 
to us such wonderful works of art, never gave a thought to all these personal and 
domestic requirements. 

There are three kinds of damask—silk, worsted, and linen ; to this latter species 
only our remarks apply; it is finely-twilled, much used for napery, and has to be 
mended with very fine ‘ flourishing ’ thread. 

The stuffs generally known under the heading of twills are, apart from cottons 
and Bolton sheetings, mostly woven in wool, with their diagonal lines more close 
and sudden than the damask, and obtained in mending by passing over 3 and under 
1. In this category are included cashmeres, merinos, serges, &c. Ravellings of 
the textiles themselves form the only satisfactory mendings for such goods. 

General Remarks. —Never try your skill on fine material; it causes loss of sight, 
time, and patience. Experiment rather on crumb-cloth, coarse canvas, or by means 
of inter-plaiting. When about to darn the material for good, tack the worn part 
straight and flat on a piece of brown paper or toile dree. Select needle and thread 
of suitable size, and be careful to leave long loops, in order to cut them regularly, 
when, after the material has been washed, the cut threads will work themselves into 
the stuff. 


Section X.—Swiss Darning; or, Jersey and Stocking Mending. 

‘What is worth doing at all is worth doing well’; therefore, I will try to explain 
the best mode of mending hosiery. 

Many of the elder ones will no doubt proudly exclaim, ‘ We have been mending 
our own hosiery for ever so long !’ Iam very pleased to hear it, for it shows you 
have been industrious and have not tried to put off this * bore ’ on your too kind 
mother. But the repair you have been accustomed to is the ordinary darn, and 
I am sure you have frequently felt dissatisfied with it. You must have noticed that 
it did not seem to harmonise so well with the stuff as when by chance you have 
mended some linen. Shall I tell you why ? The ordinary or plain darn reproduces 

ii 2 



> > > 





IOO 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


exactly the weaving of linen, which consists of two flatly interlaced threads, whilst 
in stockings the tissue forms a rather raised chain, and, to look neat, should be 
imitated perfectly. Who amongst you would ever dream of patching stockings 
with linen? Would you not consider it quite absurd ? And yet you do just about 
the same thing when you mend your stockings in the usual manner. How often 
you have been annoyed in vainly doing your very best to conceal the repairing 
thread on your own heels, or on the knees of your young brother’s knickerbockers. 

Oh dear ! how those darning stitches grin above the shoes and on the knees. 
They make you feel quite uncomfortable, and, do what you may, never will you be 
able to give them a neater appearance. Another drawback is that lazy and careless 
children, to hurry on their task, double their cotton, leave either too long loops, or 
none at all, and do not trouble themselves to prepare the hole. They then darn 
over it, layer by layer, anyhow, continuing the thick clumsy rows far beyond the 
faulty parts. ‘ It doesn’t matter, that’ll do,’ they say; ‘ it won’t show.’ 

True, it won’t show, perhaps, but just fancy having to walk with these bumpy 
plasters under your heel, or pressing against your little toe ! After this do not come 
and complain of your shoe pinching you, nor be surprised to have your feet rendered 
quite ugly with big corns and bunions,>which will make you suffer all your life. 

Well, I suppose I must not chat any longer, for surely, by this time, you have 
become quite anxious to hear the new way I have promised you—one not only 
imperceptible, but so smooth that it cannot be felt by the most delicate touch. This 
wonderful method is not in the least difficult—even the eight-year-old tot will be 
able to learn it in no time. It is called ‘ Swiss or web darning,’ and was known 
many, many years ago, when stockings were so very expensive, and gentlemen, 
wearing knee-breeches and buckled shoes, had the whole of their silk hose exposed 
to view. Since then it has been forgotten in England ; but now fashion has returned 
to it, and girls too idle to use it for their stockings will certainly be tempted to try 
it on their jerseys. 

Swift, a well-known writer, jocosely speaks of a man who ‘ spent, every day, ten 
hours in his study darning stockings, which he performed to admiration.’ What do 
you think of that ? How many girls grumble if they have but one or two hours’ 
mending a week! 

Why the stitch is called ‘Swiss darning’ I cannot exactly tell you, for it is 
known throughout the Continent; perhaps it was first invented in Switzerland. I 
prefer the name web , because it better specifies the kind of repair, as web here 
means the chain of hosiery texture. By this true stitch you make in the same time 
the chain on the top and the purl at the back, as in the plain ground of Fig. 3, while 
in the ribbed ones of Figs. 4 and 5 chain and purl are seen both on the wrong and 
right side, always in perfect imitation of the stuff, and just as done in knitting. 
Some varieties merely reproduce the chain at the top, whi st at the back they either 
form lines of reversed rope stitch, like in the chain-darn (Fig. 7), or alternate rows 
of purl and twist—the lace-web (Fig. 6). 

Not to puzzle you with long descriptions, I have prepared very clear diagrams, 
which will be your best guide, and I must now give you a few practical hints. 

First, I will warn you against reading the directions all at once; they would only 
weary without enlightening you. You had better follow me step by step. Before 
all, provide yourself with an old piece of white stocking, a needle, and some red 
embroidery or marking cotton, so that you can see better the result of your trials. 



SWISS DARNING. 


IOI 


Pay attention to the two different ways the lines run; the front ones are straight, 
and those at the back go round as a circle. These contrary directions will help you 
in cutting out the four lines of a hole, for instance. The two straight ones are made 
in front through the groove of a web, leaving smooth edges. For the two horizontal 
lines turn to the back, and cut between the purls, and you will have at the top and 
bottom a row of loops, from which prick out with a pin or needle the fluffy pieces 
of thread, leaving them well open, like they are in knitting when the needle is 
drawn out. 

Grafting. 

But to begin by the easiest, snip the piece of stocking along the purls, and join 
the two parts thus :—After the loops have been well opened, lay them flatly opposite 
each other on the forefinger of the left hand, keeping them firm under the thumb. 
Commence in front on the right-hand side; pass the needle each time through two 
loops, taken alternately from both edges. Each loop stands for a chain, and is 
pierced by the needle twice, so as to obtain both a fast seam and the Vandyke of 
the webs. Herein lies the whole secret of this true stitch , or Swiss darning, clearly 
illustrated in Fig. i. If made regularly, and with proper cotton, no one will be able 
to find out where the line is. You principally want this seam for circular-mending— 
that is, for putting in new sleeves, legs, &c.—because you see in this case the joining 
goes quite round in a circle. Of 

course when you unite thus two pieces 
be careful not only to match the 
material in quality, but in shade; so 
that if you mend a white stocking 
with a bluish tinge do not join to it a 
piece of a yellowish cast. No doubt 
you have never heard before the word 
‘grafting’; it means to join or to 
strengthen. I have just explained to 
you that the joining and the strengthen¬ 
ing can be done in two ways. When 
by chance you meet with a very large 
rent which you want to repair quickly, 
you can graft to it a new piece by 
letting in a patch. Prepare the hole 
as I have described before. Button¬ 
hole the two even edges of the gap and of the patch, which must fit to a thread 
and be first secured at the four corners by cotton or pins. Graft the loops as in 
Fig. i, then sew together the buttonholing, keeping the thread under the needle. 

Another easy and usual strengthening consists in covering thin webs with the 
original stitch (Fig. i); in this case, work with rather fine cotton, so as not to break 
the foundation. I think you will all be delighted with this stitch, with which you 
can also mark your hosiery to appear as if the letters were really woven in the 
material. But this is not all—you can besides execute charming designs in 
variegated colours for your petticoats, the clocks of your stockings, in fact, any 
chain-woven or knitted stuffs, as blankets, table-covers, antimacassars, shawls, cuffs, 
mittens, and, above all, jerseys, which you may adorn round the neck, wrists, and 










102 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


edge with a sweetly-pretty wreath of flowers copied from any cross-stitch design. As 
a simple example I have chosen the always admired key-pattern (Fig. i). 


Jacob’s Ladder. 

‘What a strange name!’ you will exclaim. So it is; but a very descriptive 
one, as you will soon understand. You well remember that Jacob, whilst travelling, 
had a dream, in which he saw a ladder reaching from earth to heaven. Now, as 
you know, a ladder is made up of rungs, one above another. Similar rungs you will 
often see on your silk gloves, jerseys, stockings, &c. They are caused by the 
breaking of a stitch, which gradually drops, bar by bar, exactly as, when in knitting, 
you drop a stitch from your needle. Instead of a chain web, you have then an 
open barred line. This ugly defect must be stopped at once by taking a crochet- 
needle and inserting it into the fallen loop, through which is drawn the rung above 
to form again the web-stitch. . When each bar has been thus picked up, the last 
loop is neatly fastened with needle and cotton. 

Web-Stitch and its Varieties. 

To mend a decayed part, remove it altogether and prepare the hole as 
mentioned at the beginning (Fig. 2). Strengthen the margin of the gap by a few 
rows of grafting, and fill up the vacancy by a series of threads describing 
alternately V’s and /\’s (Fig. 2, right hand). This foundation, always done outside, 
is shown at the back on the diagram to compare it with the opposite one, the heading 


FIG. 


3 .—WEB DARN. 


FIG 2.—TWO DIFFERENT WEB-GROUNDINGS. 




of which, being darned, must be <pn the reverse. I recommend you this last 
method for anything that has to go through a great deal of wear and tear. By 
lo ,king attentively at Fig. 3 you will understand how these darned threads are 
managed to form the V’s of the ground. In the crossing, too, this vandyked shape 
is necessarily retained to repeat the two twists of the web. For this reason every 















































































































































SWISS DARNING. 


103 


web requires two strands of the woof; each strand is taken from a different Vandyke, 
so as to better unite the surface. Begin at the right-hand side; bring the needle 
out through the centre of a border web and form the first coil of the chain by 
sloping the cotton downwards over the right-hand bar. Pierce the needle one web 
downwards, to pass it straight under the two first bars. Then, for the other twist, 
carry the cotion upwards over the left-hand bar, and back into the centre of the 
web to meet the starting-point. Place the needle again straight under this left-hand 
bar and the right-hand one of the next web. Be sure the needle pierces cleanly 
through the centre and above the straight bar at the back of the chain, or the purls 
will be disconnected. 

The woodcut shows the returning row, going from left to right. Unfortunately, 
the needle has slipped; it should be shown forming the left-hand twist, and for 
this the needle is placed straight under two bars, whilst the thread, starting from 
the centre of the web, coils round one bar ready to pass under two bars. Hence 
this thread is left at the back of the needle and not beneath it. 



At both ends of the row lightly catch the stuff underneath, to unite the mending 
threads with the ground. The pulling of the cotton, wool, &c., and the thumb- 
pressure both guide in the tightness of the crossing, according to the elasticity of 
the material. Commence and fasten off the work by running a few straight stitches 
along the web. Some of the foundation threads of the illustrations are expressly 
laid finer than those of the warp or crossing, to show better the direction of the 
bars. However, whilst working, the strands separate well through being stretched 
over the fingers or a ball in wood or india-rubber. An egg-shaped one is best to 
slip in a sleeve or leg. It leaves the left hand free to strain the weak part between 
thumb and forefinger. These balls not being easily obtained in this country, the 
worn spot should be carefully tacked on patent cloth or brown paper. 

In striped fabrics you have only to copy the bands in their various widths and 
shades, changing the cotton as often as necessary. Horizontal lines are simple 
enough, but vertical or straight ones require some care in joining, and to avoid 
the constant breaking of the thread it is advisable to keep a separate needle for 
each stripe. 















104 


THE GIRES OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


You will also find it rather troublesome at first to change from plain to purl in 
the ribbed darn, Fig. 4. To connect the last bar of the web with the first of the 
purl, start from the centre of the web and pass the needle under the remaining bar 
and over the first one of the purl. Proceed to make the purl itself by coiling under 
its right-hand strand, straight above this bar and the next one; again coil under, 
but this time round the left-hand strand, which brings you back to the centre of 
the purl stitch. In short, purl is worked exactly in a reverse way to plain, viz., by 
slipping straight under instead of over, and coiling behind the bar instead of in 
front of it, as wrongly marked in the illustration. 

These variations once well understood, you may venture on the dice or check 
darn, which affords good practice in the constant breaks in plain and purl. After 
these attempts, you will readily reproduce any close knitting pattern, nor will the 
open ones be very puzzling, though evidently they can have no regular foundation. 
Wherever this kind of repair is needed, cast threads across here and there and 
cover them with different twists according to design. Only proficient knitters, 
however, can undertake this task. 



Fig. 6 clearly exemplifies the lace web made on a single thread, which is laid 
at each row. 1 he last thread on the diagram has been expressly laced two webs 
lower down for more distinctness. The stitches should be kept to the right, as they 
are apt to drag in the contrary way. The chain darn (Fig. 7) is by far the 
quickest, but not altogether the neatest. Its ladder grounding must be loosely set, 
not to let the edges pucker. 

Light materials call for a slight foundation, forming U’s instead of V’s, because 
here the threads never meet by piercing the same hole twice, allowing for each web 
a single bar instead of a double one. 

After you have tried all these ways you will choose the one most suitable to 
your wants, and I am certain you will never be tempted to return to the old untidy 
darn. Knowing this beautiful imitation, you need not fear to indulge in the 
purchase of the best-quality garments, far preferable to the flimsy ones rather too 
much patronised nowadays. 




















PATTERNS FOR CROCHET. 


105 




Section XI.—Patterns for Crochet. 

Square Insertion. 

Make a chain of 49, and strengthen the edge by a line of trebles. In the 1st row 
crochet * 1 treble and 1 chain three times, 6 chain, repeat from *. In the 2nd row 
work 6 treble into the 6 chain 
below; 1 chain, 1 treble, into the ||p 


preceding single chain twice 
continue thus to the end. Re 
peat these rows as many times 
as you wish—3 times for an 
insertion, 12 for a band—and 
finish off with a row of trebles. 
Leave this pattern now and try 
the next (Fig. 2). 



FIG. 


-SQUARE INSERTION. 


Diamond Insertion. 

Commence with the same chain of 49 and a line of trebles. 1st row, * 3 treble, 

2 chain, 2 treble, 4 chain, and treble 4 chain, 2 treble, 2 chain, repeat from *. 
2nd row, 1 treble, 1 chain over the centre of the 3 treble below, * 3 treble, 5 chain, 

3 treble, 5 chain, 3 treble, 1 




chain, repeat from *. In the 
3rd the group of 3 trebles are 
made between those of the 
2nd; the 4th row resembles the 
1 st only the trebles stand in 
different places on the line. 

The 5th and 6th rows, too, 
you can easily follow by look¬ 
ing carefully at the pattern, 
which will be good practice 
for you now. There is no 
fear of being bewildered in 
counting this checked diamond, but when you attempt large patterns you will find a 
pin very handy for keeping your place. Remember in all the regular square crochet 
patterns to break off at each row, for the work must never be turned. Also count 
the stitches before making the foundation chain ; a close square will contain 3 trebles 
and an open one, 2 chain and 1 treble. As there must be an extra treble to 
complete the row, you will always find the number of your chain is so many times 
3 and 1 over. 



FIG. 2.—DIAMOND INSERTION. 


Picot Wheel. 

Let me see, we will make the first circle of loops like you have already done. 
Work 5 chain, and to set the loop, turn, miss 3 chain, and into the 4th make one 
single, repeat this seven times, which will give you 8 loops, with 1 chain between 
each. Your row is straight; now pick up the other end, and, turning the loops 


















































































































































































































io6 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


inward, draw the first chain through the loop on the needle. It forms a ring at 
once, round which you may work, row after row, doubling the number of stitches 
each time to allow the size to increase properly. 

Make some chain stitches, 2 
for a double crochet, 3 for a 
treble, 4 for a long treble, and so 

be 



on; and you must always 


FIG. 3. —PICOT WHEEL. 



FIG. 4—DETAIL OF PICOT WHEEL. 



most particular to have these 
chain stitches ; otherwise you will 
gradually lose in every row, and 
your wheel will tighten into a 
nice little cap instead of a flat 
round. In case of missing your 
centre stitch you had better tie 
in now a bit of coloured thread, 
and always join your rounds 
exactly above it, at the same time 
drawing it loosely through the 
last chain. To proceed, then, 
with the 2nd row—2 chain for 
the first double crochet, pull the 
loop on the needle rather long, 
leave it loose, then prick the hook 
back again into the chain formed 
by the top of the double crochet; 
make a similar stitch, which secures the purl or 
picot, and pushes it rather to the back—see 
Fig. 4. 

Repeat these 2 double crochet into every 
foundation stitch; thus there will be 16 purls. 
In the 3rd row connect these purls by a line of 
1 single, 1 chain, making 32 in all, the ground¬ 
work of the 32 double of the 4th row, which 
have a picot left at every other stitch. These 
two rows you may continue as many times as 

you please, till you have 
quite a large mat. 

Wheel Lace. 


This star is arranged 
as a lace, with a heading 
of trebles. (Fig. 5.) 

Each wheel, however, 
is made separately, and 
can afterwards be united 
J to others for a necktie 

end, box cover, &c., or made of strong coloured cotton or silk, can be sewn on 


FIG. 










































PATTERNS FOR CROCHET. 


107 


the pockets, collar, cuffs, and waistband of a dress, in the same way as the gimp 
ornaments. Commence with a chain of 10; join it into a round. 1st row, 4 chain 
for the 1st long treble, another long treble, and at the last two loops, pull the cotton 
right through those, and the 1st of the 4 chain, 7 chain, and 2 long treble nine 
times rnore—finish with 7 chain, and slip-stitch it to the 4th chain of the 1st treble. 
This finishes the wheel, and in crocheting the next, catch one loop to the opposite 
one of the 1st star; for instance, make 3 chain, draw the centre stitch of the 
opposite loop through the chain on the needle—do this with the next stitch also— 
3 more chain, and continue the two long trebles. 



FIG. 6.—CROCHET SQUARE. 


For the heading of the lace, work a long treble into the middle of the 4th loop 
from the centre one already caught—5 chain, 1 single, into the middle of the next 
loop, 3 chain, 1 single into the 3rd, 5 chain, 1 long treble into the 4th ; this secures 
one wheel. Leave the two last loops of the long treble on the needle, however; 
work another long treble into the first loop of the second wheel, and draw the cotton 
through all the loops two at a time, so that both trebles emerge from the same hole. 
Complete the heading by a line of 1 treble, 1 chain. The edging well secured in 
each wheel, finish olf the four loops remaining loose; 1 single into the 1st one, * 4 
chain, 1 picot (4 chain and 1 single into the 1st of the 4), 4 chain, attach to 

























I HE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


:o£ 

the next loop and repeat from * twice, - pass from one wheel to another by four 
chain. 

ist Round, or Wheel.—7 chain (5 of which are for the 1st long treble), purl of 
5 chain, and 1 single into the ist, 1 chain, 1 long treble (cotton twice round needle) 

into the ist of 7 chain, * 1 chain, 1 purl, 1 chain, 1 long treble into the ist stitch 

again; repeat from * 5 times, always working into the same hole; finish with 1 
chain, 1 purl, 1 chain, close the round by one single into the 5th of the 6th chain 
now found at commencement. 

2nd Round.—3 chain for 1 treble, ist Vandyke, 5 chain, 1 treble into the 3rd 
of the 3 chain, making a loop; 5 chain, 1 treble above last treble, 4 chain, work 

back for a point, 1 single on 2nd stitch, 1 double on 3rd, 1 treble on 4th. Repeat 

the 3 loops of 5 chain, 1 treble, then 1 treble into the long treble underneath. 2nd 
vandyke—3 loops as before, 5 chain, 1 purl of 5 chain and 1 single, 3 chain, 1 purl, 
1 chain, 1 single into the 4th of the 5th chain; 1 chain, 1 purl, 3 chain. 1 purl, 
1 chain ; 1 single into the same stitch as last single; for the point, 1 left, 3 single, 
1 double, and 1 treble on the 3 chain loops to descend the other side, 1 treble on 
long treble beneath. Work the ist and 2nd vandyke alternately3 times more; close 
the circle by drawing the last stitch of the 3rd chain through the loop on the needle. 
Break off the cotton. 

Frame. —6 chain, * 1 single between the 2 corner purls of the vandyke ; 7 
chain, 1 purl, 7 chain, 1 single into the point of 2nd vandyke ; 7 chain, 1 single 
between the purs of 3rd vandyke; 12 chain to turn the corner; repeat from * 3 
times more ; finish with 6 chain and join. 

Corners .—Each comer is made sep irately, working backwaids and forwards in 
ribbed crochet'— i.e., always taking the*back part of the chain. Deerejse 1 stitch at 
the beginning and end of each row till only 1 is left, when slip-stitch up one side 
and commence the next corner. The balls are made thus : in the 5th row work into 
the centre stitch 1 treble, 5 long trebles, 1 treble ; in the 6th, or returning row, 
catch the ist and 7th stitch of the scallop together tightly at the back, drawing it 
into a ball; in the 7th row make two scallops at the 3rd stitch on either side from 
the ist one; and in the 9th row make 1 scallop in the centre again. 

Narrow Edging. 

Take a 4 ~ needle and the reel of No. 24 cotton. Now make 14 chain, then 
ist row 1 treble on the 5th stitch, counting from right to left; 1 chain, 1 treble 

twice, missing 1 of the foundation; 2 
chain, miss 1, and into the next stitch 
work 4 treble; 3 chain, 1 treble into the 
last stitch. 2nd Row. —7 chain, 4 treble 
into the centre of the 4 underneath, 2 
chain, 1 treble, 1 chain, 1 treble through 
the ist hole, 1 chain, 1 treble into the next 2 holes. 3rd Row.—Turn and slip- 
stitch back to the 2nd treble *. Remember that to slip-stitch you prick the hook in 
a chain, and draw the cotton through it and through the other loop on the needle 
at the same time. Continue from * 4 chain, 1 treble into the third hole, 1 chain, 
1 treble exactly above the treble of previous row, 1 chain, 1 treble through the 
2nd chain, 2 chain, 4 treble into the centre of the last 4, 3 chain, 1 treble into the 
3rd of the 7th chain. These two rows form the whole pattern. 












PA T TERNS FOR CROCHET. 


109 


Crochet Border. 

Make 16 chain, and for the first or foundation row turn, miss 7 chain, and into 
the 8th work 2 treble; 2 treble again into each of the two next stitches, making 6 
in all; 2 chain 1 treble in the end of chain ; 3 chain 1 treble into the same hole. 
2nd Row.—Reverse to work at the back of the lace; 2 chain, then 6 treble 
through the 3 chain of preceding row*. You understand what I mean b y through ; 
instead of taking the stitch in the chain take it underneath, so that the treble clasps 
both sides, and thus makes the work doubly strong, though not perhaps very fine. 
* 3 chain 1 treble through the centre of the 6 treble; three chain 1 treble into the 
same hole; again, 3 chain 1 treble into the 3rd of 7 chain. Repeat these two rows 
alternately. This trimming will look very nice, too, in wool, not only for crochet, 
antimacassars, quilts, &c., but for knitted articles, as you will find crochet edgings 
are lighter and more quickly done than knitted ones. 

You notice that the lower part forms pretty shells, each of which takes 10 rows. 
Make a chain of 28, and three more to form the first treble, then into the 4th and 



FIG. 8.—SHELL LACE. 

5th stitch (counting from the end) work 2 treble, making 3 in all; 3 chain 1 treble 
3 times, missing 2 of the foundation; 6 chain 1 single crochet into the 1st or end 
stitch; 12 chain to begin the shell. Now, for the 2nd row, * 3 treble 3 chain 
alternately 4 times, work the trebles through the spaces of preceding row *. 

3rd Row. —Repeat from * of second row, 12 double on the 9 chain of shell. 

4th Row.—Turn with 4 chain, 1 treble 1 chain between each of the double. 
Repeat from *. 

5th Row.—Repeat from * 1 treble 2 chain between the last shell trebles. 

6th Row.—Turn with 6 chain, 1 treble three chain through every space under 
neath.—Repeat from *. 

7th Row.—Repeat from * 3 treble 3 chain through the single trebles below. 

8th Row.—Turn with 7 chain, 1 treble 4 chain between every 3 chain which 
separates the groups of trebles. Repeat from * 
















IIO 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


9th Row.—Repeat from * 4 chain 1 treble again between those of last row. 

10th Row.—Through every 4 chain make 1 single 5 treble 1 single. This 
gives the scalloped edge. Repeat from *. 

Purled Lace. 

Each scallop requires 5 rows. Make a chain of 25 stitches. 

1st Row.—Turn, miss 6 and into the 7th, work 1 treble; 2 chain, 1 treble in 
the 3rd stitch farther on; 1 treble again in the 3rd stitch farther on still ; 3 chain, 
1 treble into the same hole; miss 2, 1 treble into the next; repeat 2 chain, 1 treble 
3 times, leaving between, 2 chain. 

2nd Row.—5 chain to turn; 1 treble exactly above preceding one; 2 chain, 
1 treble twice; 6 treble through the hole formed by 3 chain; 1 treble into the one 

beneath, making 8 in all; 2 chain, 1 treble; 
for the scallops, 8 treble through the 4 
chain. 

3rd Row.—4 chain to turn, 1 treble, 1 
chain above every other bar of 2nd row ; 2 
chain, 1 treble; 5 chain, 1 treble into the 
last of the 8; * 2 chain, 1 treble, 3 times. 

4th Row.—3 chain for the 1st treble, 
repeat from *; into the centre of the 5 
chain work 1 treble, 3 chain, 1 treble; 1 
treble above last treble; 2 chain, 1 treble; 
2 chain, 2 treble through every space of the 
last scallop row. The third group has 3 
trebles. 

5th Row.—To let this project beyond the 4th, make 2 chain, and on them 
work back 3 treble, then a picot or purl of 5 chain and 1 treble taken into the 
1 st stitch. Make trebles and picots alternately 6 times, and after 2 treble; 2 chain, 
8 treble; 2 chain, 1 treble three times. 

Attach the scallops by catching every other row to a purl, leaving the last free. 

Crochet Borders. No. i.—Key Pattern. 

Make a chain of 28 stitches; turn the work for each row. 

1 st Row.—1 treble into twenty-second chain in last row, 1 chain, miss 1, 16 
treble into following chain stitches, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 
1 treble. 

2nd Row.—4 chain, 1 treble over first treble in last row, 1 chain, miss 1, 

1 treble, 2 chain, miss 2, 1 treble, 2 chain, miss 2, 1 treble, 2 chain, miss 2, 1 treble, 

2 chain, miss 2, 4 treble over next 4 treble, 1 chain, 1 treble over next treble, 
1 chain, 1 treble over last treble in first row. 

3rd Row.—4 chain, 1 treble over treble in last row, 1 chain, miss 1, 4 treble 
over treble in last row, 2 chain, miss 2, 10 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble, 
1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble. 

4th Row.—4 chain, 1 treble over treble in last row, 1 chain, miss 1, 4 treble 
over first 4 of 10 treble in last row, 2 chain, 4 treble over last 4 of the 10 on last 
row, 2 chain, 4 treble over next 4 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 
1 treble. 



FIG. 9. —PURLED LACE. 
























PATTERNS FOR CROCHET. 


in 


5th Row. 4 chain, 1 treble over treble in last row, 1 chain, miss 1, 10 treble, 
2 chain, miss 2, 4 treble over 4 treble in last row, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble, 

1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble. 

6th Row. 4 chain, 1 treble, miss 1, 1 chain, 4 treble, 2 chain, miss 2, 1 treble 

2 chain, miss 2, 1 treble, 2 chain, 

miss 2, 1 treble, 2 chain, miss 2, 

1 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble, 

1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble. 

This completes the pattern, 
which must be repeated from first 
row. The fringe is made of the 
same crochet cotton, wound over 
a firm card or wooden mesh 
about two inches wide, carefully 
cut with a sharp penknife or 
small pair of scissors before re¬ 
moving it from the card, and 
knitting five lengths into each 
opening along the edge. 

No. 2.— An Open and Showy 
Crochet Insertion with 
Looped Fringe, suitable for 
Antimacassars or Window 
Blinds, worked backwards 

AND FORWARDS. 

Make a chain of 12 stitches. 

1st Row.—4 treble with 1 
chain between, commencing on 
the 9th stitch of chain, 3 chain; 

6 treble beginning in the same 
chain as last 4 treble. 

2nd Row.—4 chain, miss 1, 

1 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 
treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble, 3 
chain, 6 treble into chain be¬ 
tween treble in last row. 

3rd Row.—4 chain, miss 1, 1 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble, 1 chain, miss 
1, 1 treble, 2 chain, 6 treble into chain, continue these last 2 rows, taking care 
to have the 4 treble with 1 chain between each, over the 6 treble in last row, 
and the 6 treble into the chain at the end of the row. When a sufficient length 
has been made, work 4 chain, 1 double crochet between every third and fourth 
treble on one edge. For the lower edge commence between the first and second 
treble, work 15 picots of 4 stitches with 1 chain between each picot, join between 
first and second picot, 1 chain, 1 picot, 1 chain, join to next first of 4 treble; this 
will form a scollop with fringe. 
















































































































































































































































































































































112 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


No. 3.— Crochet Border and Fringe. 

Make a chain of 15 stitches, turn back. 

1 st Row.—3 trebles beginning on the 9th stitch of the chain, 1 chain, miss 1, 
3 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble. Turn the work each row. 

2nd Row.—4 chain, 1 treble on first of 3 treble on last row, 1 chain, miss 
1, 3 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble, 1 chain, miss 1, 1 treble. These 2 rows 
complete the pattern. 

The fringe is made of chains of 36 stitches joined into each opening along 



the edge, and looks nice and beady when worked evenly with a rather small 
needle, and moderately fine crochet cotton. It is also easily washed and wears 
well, suitable for edging toilette covers or cheese cloths. 


No. 4.— Another Pretty and quickly worked Border with Fringe. 

Work a chain of 15 stitches, turn work. 

1st Row.—1 treble into 10th stitch from the commencement of chain, miss 3, 
3 treble into next chain, 3 chain, 3 treble into same stitch with last, 3 treble, miss 
3, 1 treble into next chain, 1 chain, 1 treble into 1st stitch of chain. 

2nd Row.—4 chain, 1 treble between the 2 first treble in last row, 3 treble 
into chain between the 2, 3 trebles in last row, 3 treble into same chain, 1 treble 
between the next 2 trebles, 1 chain, 1 treble into same chain. Turn back and 
continue working each row the same as 2nd. Fringe of the same cotton made 
and drawn through the edge as before described for cut fringes. 


































































































































PATTERNS FOR CROCHET. 


ii 3 


Crochet Star. 

Commence with a chain of 5 j join into a circle and coil round it with double 
crochet until you have 42. To coil, instead of uniting and making a fresh start 
by i chain ior each circle, you make 1 double crochet on each stitch below, 



CROCHET STAR. 


on and on without any break. Having 42, begin the curled branches thus:— 
17 chain, work back 7 double crochet on the first 7 chain, turn, and crochet 
on the 7 double crochet 5 double crochet, leaving 2 for the point Turn and 

1 






















THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


114 

make 5 double crochet on the last double crochet, then 2 into 2 stitches of the 
stalk chain. * Work back on these 5 double crochet, then 7 again, seizing the next 
2 stitches of the chain. Repeat from * 3 times more, always taking up the back 
of the stitch to rib the crochet. There will now be 6 serrated furrows or veins. 
When you have worked off the last 2 stitches of the stalk, slip through the loop 
on the needle, the next stitch on the centre coil to the one from whence the 
17 chain commenced. Work back 5 double crochet, turn and again on them 5 
double crochet, as though to commence a fresh furrow, attach to the following 
stitch on the coil, slip-stitch along 3 and make 17 chain for the second branch. In 
this branch and the five succeeding ones bend the stem by connecting the 17 chain 
to the fourth peak of the previous branch. 

Circular Frame.—* 17 chain, 1 long treble (cotton twice round needle) into the 
first point of a branch. 5 chain 1 long treble into the second peak, 5 chain 1 
long treble into the third. Repeat from * 6 times. 

2nd Round.—4 chain for the first treble, continue 1 treble 1 chain, missing 
1 of the foundation. 

3rd Round.—4 chain, 1 purl of 5 chain and 1 single. 4 chain, miss 6 below 
and crochet 3 double crochet on the jiext 3 stitches. Repeat 15 times. As there 
will be 4 stitches short in the circle, accommodate this by missing only 5 chain 
in places where the stitches may be slightly looser, and the irregularity will not be 
noticed. 

4th Round or Trefoil Edge.—Slip-stitch to the purl of one scallop. * 1 double 
crochet just before it, 4 chain 1 double crochet into the purl, 5 chain 1 double 
crochet into the same hole. 4 chain 1 double crochet just after the purl, 7 chain. 
Repeat from * 15 times. 

Connecting Star.—Unite 5 chain into a ring, and coil round it until there are 
32 stitches; then for the 4 festoons; *4 chain 1 purl of 5 chain, and 1 single 
turned inwards; 4 chain, miss 4 of the coil, 4 double crochet into the next 4. 
Repeat from * 3 times. For the outer row, slip stitch to a purl and make a trefoil 
as already described in the large wheel, 5 chain 1 purl. 5 chain, continue the 
trefoil and bar 3 times ; break off the cotton. 

Crochet Mat. 

For the centre hole commence with 7 chain, 3 of which stand for a treble 
and 3 for chain between. Into the first of the 7 work 1 treble—3 chain and x 
treble 3 times more into the same stitch—finish by 3 chain, draw through the 
loop on the needle the fourth stitch of the 7 chain. Make the surrounding petals 
or scallops thus:—into each space of 3 chain work 1 double crochet, 1 treble, 
6 long treble (passing cotton twice round needle), 1 treble, and 1 double crochet 
— equal 10 in all. Draw the thread through a stitch at the back, and from 
thence make 6 chain and 1 single into the commencement of the next scallop, 
repeat 4 times more. There will now be, at the wrong side of the flower, 5 
festoons of chain ready to receive 12 double crochet crocheted through each 
festoon ; these raise the rose and form a circle of 60 stitches for the openwork. 

1st Round.—3 chain for the first treble, then 1 chain 1 treble 29 times, missing 
1 foundation stitch. 

2nd Round.—i treble (through the chain of preceding round), 2 chain, 30 
times. 



PATTERNS FOR CROCHET. 


*15 

3rd Round.—5 chain 1 single, through every 2 chain below. 

4th Round.—0 chain i single through the third of the previous e chain. 

5 th Round.—Like fourth. 


6th Round.—7 chain 1 single through the third of the 6 chain. 

7th Round.—8 chain 1 single through the fourth of the 7 chain 

8th Round-Work this round like the seventh, with the addition of increasing at 



CROCHET MAT. 

l 

every fifth loop, by putting 1 single over the second stitch of the 8 chain ; then 8 
chain and 1 single into the sixth stitch. There are thus 36 loops instead of 30, 
as seen in the illustration, which, being designed for a cap crown, is slightly flattened 
and narrowed on one side. 

9th Round.—7 chain 1 single twice ; into third loop 11 chain and 1 single ; 
crochet these 3 loops 11 times and fasten off. 


1 2 





Il6 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 



The raised wheels of the border are worked separately and match the centre one, 
with the exception that 5 chain and 1 single replace the second open round of 
2 chain and 1 treble. To attach the first wheel, slip-stitch one scallop to a loop 

of 11 chain, and in the next and all sub¬ 
sequent rosaces crochet besides, the 
eighth, ninth, and tenth loops (counting 
the slip-stitched as one) to 
corresponding loops in the 
opposite circle. 

This effective de¬ 
sign comes out 
very handsomely 
when worked with 
Evans’ Maltese 
Thread; a grey, 
brown, or other 
sober tint used 
for the open-work 
round, and two or three 
prettily contrasting hues for 
the bordering wheels. Wrought 
with coloured wools, the d’oyley may be 
utilized also as a charming lamp mat. 


Ringed Valance. 

Each vandyke is formed by ten rings, 
the fourth upper one standing 
also for the first one of the 
second vandyke, hence 
every succeeding point after 
the first will only re¬ 
quire nine wheels. 
These are worked 
separately and 
vary in size ac¬ 
cording to their 
place; the centre 
one, for instance, 
is bordered by twelve loops, 
the three lower ones and the 
two inner ones of the top 

have eleven loops, while the 

four outer lines contain only ten. 

For the centre ring make a chain of 
22, unite into a circle, and through it work 
ringed valance. 0 ne chain for the first double crochet and 

35 more double crochet, closing them by drawing the first chain through the 

loop on the needle. 


































































PATTERNS FOR CROCHET 


II/ 


2nd Round.—7 chain, miss 2 chain below, 1 single into the third ; repeat 
11 times. 

3rd Round.—To bring the cotton into the right place, slip-stitch to the fourth 
stitch of the first loop of 7 chain, then 9 chain, 1 double crochet through 
the centre of the next loop; make 9 more of these loops and 2 with 10 chain ; 
close by drawing the thread through a stitch at the back. 

A glance at the illustration shows very clearly the mode of joining. Work the 
Vandyke from the top downwards; prepare one wheel of 10 loops, and a second 
one of 11 loops. Instead of closing the last loop as usual, make 4 chain, 1 
single into the centre of the loop in the first wheel. 4 chain to finish this purl; 
fasten off. Connect in the same manner one loop of the third wheel with the fifth 
of the second, counting from the one last caught; join the fourth ring similarly. 
For the second row, attach one loop or purl of the fifth wheel to the third purl of 
the first (reckoning from the one already attached), miss one loop of the second 
wheel, and unite a loop to the next one; continue after the same plan for the 
remaining wheels. Notice that the centre one is caught to the two above by the 
purls of 10 chain; the eighth and the ninth rings are each fastened to the lower 
part of this large ring by two purls side by side. The wheel at the point being only 
connected at the top needs a stronger fastening, therefore one purl on each side is 
slip-stitched in two places to the loops of the upper rings. 

When the required number of Vandykes is finished, unite every set of four upper 
ones by 11 loose chain between the first and second and the third and fourth, 
and by 7 chain between the second and third, slip-stitching along the loops from 
place to place. Heading: 7 chain, 1 long treble (cotton twice over needle) 
into the third chain of the second loop in the first ring; 6 chain, 1 long treble 
into the third chain of the next loop; 7 chain, 1 ordinary treble into the 
centre of the bar of 11 chain; 7 chain, 1 long treble into the end of the 
bar; 6 chain, 1 long treble into the third loop of the second wheel; seven chain, 
1 long treble into the centre of the 7 loose chain; continue thus to the end, then 
complete the whole by a line of close trebles. 

Numerous are the purposes to which this open pattern can be applied ; executed 
in fine white cotton, it will make pretty necktie ends to be sewn on muslin or silk 
scarves : in coloured silks it affords a durable ornament for jackets, dresses, satchels, 
&c., and the appearance could be still more enhanced by the use of beads. Worked in 
lengths the Vandykes have a good effect as a mantle valance, border of a gipsy table, 
&c., the crochet being rendered more substantial by working each wheel over small 
brass rings of varied sizes. Well-gradated silks, wools, or Maltese threads could be 
employed at will, and the whole set off by a satin or cloth lining in harmony. 

Valance with Ribbed Crochet Leaves. 

Each part of this handsome trimming is worked separately, and afterwards 
united. 

Ribbed Leaf. —Commence with the largest or central one. Make a chain of 
20 for the midrib, and slip-stitch to the end again to render it double. 

1 st Round.—Turn and work double crochet, putting 3 stitches into 1 at the 
top. Double crochet down the other side. 

2nd Round.—Turn and slip-stitch 3 stitches, then 2 chain for the first 
projecting stitch, and double crochet to the top, taking always the back part of the 



IIS 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 



VALANCE WITH RIBBED CROCHET LEAVES. 


stitch to rib the crochet. 
In this and every alter¬ 
nate row you must in¬ 
crease 4 at the top as 
von lose 2 on 
each side at the 
end; do this as fol¬ 
lows : 2 double 
crochet into 
the stitch be¬ 
fore the centre 
one, three 
double crochet 
into the centre, 
two double 
crochet into the 
next one again. 
Continue double 
crochet down the 
other side, leaving 
the last 2 stitches un¬ 
worked to correspond 
with those opposite. 

3rd Round.—To turn, 
make 1 chain, miss 1, 
and r double crochet 
into the next; work 
double crochet all 
round, crocheting 
3 into the top 
stitch. 

You have 
now formed 
^ one of the teeth 
^ of, the serrated 
edge; repeat 
the 2nd and 
3rd rows alter¬ 
nately five times 
more, or until there 
are six complete ribs 
on either side of the 
centre one. Notice that 
in the last rib 4 stitches 
are lessened instead of 
2, which gives a shorter 
and more curved outline 
to the top of the leaf. 



























































PA TTERNS FOR CROCHET. 


”9 

Stalk. You will finish at the point, slip-stitch back to the centre, from whence 
make 20 chain for the tapered stalk. Return by 5 chain for the first treble, 
5 triple treble (cotton three times round needle), 6 double or long treble, 4 
ordinary treble, 2 double crochet and 2 single, slip-stitch down the other side of 
the leaf, and fasten off. 

To give a lighter look to the leaf, you can increase all the four stitches exactly 
at. the corner, i.e ., work 5 double crochet into the centre stitch. This forms a 
midrib of holes, which displays very prettily a coloured lining. The small leaves, 
too, can be executed in either way. They are here described to match the 
large one. 

Small Leaf. —Begin by a chain of 12, make it double by slip-stitching, and 
work round it 2 rows of double crochet, putting 3 into 1 at the top. At the 
third round commence to leave 2 stitches at every row for the notches; make 

3 more ribs, as already explained, missing in the last rib 4 stitches on one 
side and 2 on the other. Catch 5 stitches of this latter edge to corresponding 
ones in the large leaf, then the centre stitch to the stalk, and fasten off. Crochet 
the second small leaf in a similar manner. 

Having made a sufficient number of these trefoil leaves proceed to the openwork. 
First form the scallop which connects the perpendicular leaves, next the wheels and 
quatrefoils that sustain the horizontal ones. 

Scallop. —Work 4 chain and unite into a circle. 

1 st Round.—2 double crochet into each chain, making 8. 

2nd Round.—Like the first, there are thus 16 stitches. 

3rd Round.—3 chain for the first treble, 5 chain, 1 treble into every other 

stitch of the circle beneath; finish with 5 chain and 1 single into the fourth 

stitch of the eighth chain, which represents the first treble and space. 

4th Round.—* 4 chain, 1 treble into the third of 5 chain below; for the 
trefoil 5 chain, 1 single into the first stitch, 5 chain, 1 single, into the same hole 
twice more; 4 chain, 1 single above the treble of the third round. Repeat from 
* 7 times. Break off the cotton. 

5th Round.—Commence the outer circle; 1 single into the centre branch of a 
trefoil, and 9 chain 8 times. 

6th Round.—After joining the circle, slip-stitch 2 stitches beyond the trefoil; 

4 chain, 1 treble into the fifth of the ninth chain below; 1 purl of 5 chain and 

1 single, begin 2 chain of the next purl, and * before closing it, attach it to 

the third rib of one of the large leaves (counting from the point) thus: 5 chain, 
1 single, 5 chain back again. Close into a loop, then continue from *, 2 
chain, 1 single, into the hole of the first purl; 5 chain, 1 single into the 
same hole; 4 chain, 1 single into the eighth of the ninth chain. Next a 
Vandyke of 5 chain, 1 single into the second of the following 9 chain. 

Unite the second trefoil point to the last rib of the large leaf by a loop of 5 
chain, 1 single, 5 chain, and to the last rib of the small leaf by another loop of 
3 chain, 1 single, 3 chain. Connect the second Vandyke to the second tooth 
of the small leaf by a loop of 6 chain, 1 single, 6 chain. Leave the third 
trefoil free, attach the third vandyke, in the same way, to the small leaf of the 
opposite group, and the fourth trefoil also both to the small and large leaf. Leave 
the fourth vandyke free, attach the fifth trefoil like the first. For the remainder of 
the circle, repeat these trefoils, alternating with long loops of 15 chain. 



120 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


7th Round.—Having worked round to the first point, turn, and from the sides 
of the trefoil make 7 chain, 1 single, into the eighth of the fifteenth chain, 
twisting the loop in doing so, 7 chain, 1 single, into the next trefoil. Repeat from 
* 3 times. 

8th Round.—Slip-stitch back to the fourth stitch of the 7 chain, 3 chain, 
1 loop of 3 chain, 1 single, 3 chain, into the same rib as the loop of the 
seventh round—2 chain, 1 double-chain above the trefoil point. Continue thus 
to the end, attaching the last square by a similar small loop to the tooth of the 
opposite leaf. The tenth or border row consists of the trefoil-points, commencing 
at the third window or square, and occupying the space of two. To make them 
sufficiently wide, 5 instead of 4 chain are used on either side of the treble. 

Wheel. —To make this, follow exactly the first four rounds of the scallop, and in 
the fourth round connect the wheel thus :—Slip-stitch the first, trefoil to the tip of the 
third rib of a small leaf (counting from the centre), catch the seventh trefoil in the 
same manner to the opposite leaf, and link the eighth trefoil to the one of the wheel 
below by 3 chain, 1 treble, and 3 chain back again. 

Quatrefoil .—2 chain, and 1 purl of 1 chain and 1 single, 2 chain and 
1 purl again, 1 chain, * slip-stitch to 1 the stalk of the large leaf a little higher 
than midway, continue from * 1 chain, 1 purl, and 2 chain twice. This 
completes one arm of the quatrefoil; make the remaining three, catching the last 
to the side of the horizontal leaf beneath. The exact point to attach both these 
arms is, of course, regulated by the worker’s judgment as to the flat set of the 
crochet. 

Heading .—This consists of a chain edge, secured at proper distances to the 
broad stalks, quatrefoils, and three trefoils of the wheels. Between the two latter 
the chain is connected to the corner of the small leaves by 14 chain, the 
eighth stitch of which is joined in the centre of the 14 returning chain, thus 
shaping the letter 8. To finish off the whole a line of double crochet thickens the 
heading. 


Section XII.— Wool Crochet. 

Cotton crochet answers very well for ornamental purposes, but wool crochet is 
preferred by the weak-sighted and the real matter-of-fact worker. With wool the steel 
hook is replaced by a long bone or wooden one, sometimes tipped with a knob, but 
of that more anon. As to the stitches, we may divide them into two great classes : 
those similar to the stitches employed in ordinary crochet, and special stitches which 
vary very much. With the first kind are made such articles as shawls, square and 
half square, comforters, cuffs, hoods, and dolly’s smart dresses, &c. Not very long 
ago I was surprised, whilst in a large linendraper’s, to watch the ready sale of little 
socks in open square crochet, sold at the trifling price of 5 hd. per pair. I at once 
bought a pair of them, and handed over my purchase to a poor woman, who has 
since told me how useful were the new socks to her baby—the very thing for the 
summer; so light and airy; and the best of all, too, they washed and dried in no 
time, without shrinking. 

However, among all the plain stitches the triangular treble is decidedly the 
favourite, and with it almost any article can be shaped. To work it, you may eithei 
crochet in straight rows, in slanting ones, or in a square, starting from a centre hole 





WOOL CROCHET. 


121 



FIG. I.—SHAWL STITCH. 


and setting the corners by working two groups of trebles into one stitch. In the 
same way shape also the point of a half square shawl. 

The slantwise method being, 
perhaps, the least familiar, I have 
chosen this for the first illustra¬ 
tion. 

A glance at it will show you 
that the triangular stitch is made 
up of doubles instead of trebles, 
and that the groups are worked 
between each other and separated 
by one chain. Commence by a 
single group, increase at every 
row until you have the required 
width across, then decrease in the 
same proportion till there is but 
one group again, thus forming 
the square. At the end of every 
row make i chain to serve as 
the foundation-stitch for the 
group worked into it above. 

Continue i chain, 3 double, into 
the next separating chain be¬ 
neath ; crochet back by a row 
of single to the point whence you first started, and make 1 chain to commence the 
next. This row of single crochet, by doubling the line at the top of the groups, 
adds great strength to the work, and renders it very suitable for a sofa blanket. 

I will now explain to you 
quite a different mode of 
making this stitch, which per¬ 
haps you will find quicker. 

Crochet a chain of 25 ; this 
will give you the depth of 
a nice border. 1st Row.— 

Raise all the loops, as in 
crochet tricote. 2nd Row. * 

—Draw the needle through 
5 of the loops at once, make 
5 chain; repeat from * 4 
times. The line finishes by 
5 loops taken together; add 
5 chain to replace the 5 
stitches pulled into one at the 
commencement. Thus you 
form the bias. 3rd Row.— 

Raise 25 loops, like in 1st row; repeat 2nd row, and so on. 

Another way of reproducing open and dense crochet is shown in Fig. 2, where 
balls alternate with holes, giving the effect of raised square crochet. 



FIG. 2.—BALL CROCHBT. 









122 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 




To make the balls, proceed thus: crochet a foundation chain with any even 
number of stitches, turn and, missing 4, twist the wool round the needle and pierce it 
into the fifth ; draw the wool through, twist it over, and draw through again ; twist 
and draw through for the third time, leaving 7 loops on the needle; bring the wool 

through all these at once, and set the 
ball by 1 chain, another chain to 
separate the balls, then begin the 
next one. 

Balls are still more effective on 
opaque surfaces, such as the one 
given in Fig. 3. 

For this make one row of double 
crochet, break off the wool, and com¬ 
mence again for the first line; * 5 
double crochet into the sixth ; work 
* 1 treble, 3 long trebles (winding 

0 the wool twice round the needle), 

1 treble; repeat from *. You have now a row of spaced scallops, each separated 
by 5 double crochet. Break off the wool again, and in the second row set the 
scallops into balls thus : make double crochet until the first one is reached, then 
take the first and last chain of the scallop on the hook, and draw the wool tightly 
through these as well as the loop on the needle; the scallop then doubles into a 
clump or ball. 5 more double crochet; set the next scallop in the same way, 

and so on to the end. 
In the third and every 
alternate row work a 
scallop into the centre 
stitch of the inter¬ 
vening 5 chain. A 
closer and richer-raised 
work is obtained by 
making balls at every 
fourth instead of every 
sixth stitch ; this is the 
kind adopted for repro¬ 
ducing the diamond 
and other designs on 
squares or stripes for 
quilts, sofa and car¬ 
riage blankets, bas¬ 
sinette covers, borders 
for vests, hoods, babies’ 

. . . and ladies’ boots, &c. 

1 his kind of crochet is sometimes called ribbed crochet, but the real ribbed, or 
Russian, is more furrowed and alike on both sides. It is worked like double crochet, 
pricking the hook each time in the back of the chain— i.e., the part which rests on 
the forefinger of the left hand whilst holding the work. Each row is turned with 
1 chain to avoid losing a stitch, and this change of sides causes a rid° r e and a 


FIG. 4 .—CROCHET TRICOT&. ADVANCING ROW. 














WOOL CROCHET. 


123 



RETURNING ROH, 


hollow at every pair of rows. Indeed, ribbed crochet is a capital stitch for every 
sort of woollen boot, and being warm and elastic, is highly appreciated, specially by 

invalids. Before making one it is always wiser to take measures, either on the foot, 
or, as the case may be, 

on the boot over which 
the crochet one has 
to be slipped. For 
fidgety people a brown 
paper pattern is often 
cut, and the increas- 
ings and decreasings 
managed by it. Some 
workers begin by the 
top, others by the toe ; 
the last is certainly the 
easier plan. 1 will ex¬ 
plain to you a boot 
made in this manner, 
which buttons on the 
instep, to allow of its 

being readily put on FIG - 5.-crochet tricote. 

or taken off. Commence at the toe by 9, 11, or 13 stitches, according to the 
thickness of wool and required size. Crochet backwards and forwards for 23 
rows, shaping the piece in the centre by working 3 stitches into 1, like for 
shawls. Be careful to preserve an unbroken line. There will, of course, be 55, 
57* or 59 stitches to 
correspond with the 
number you started 
with. So much for the 
front. To begin the 
left side piece crochet 
as usual until the 
twenty-third stitch — 
i.e., the one before the 
centre, then extend it 
by a chain of 14. 

Work back upon these 
and continue along the 
ribbed part; repeat 
backwards and for¬ 
wards for about 36 
rows, which will give 
18 ribs; the number 
naturally depends up¬ 
on the intended height of the boot. Break off the wool and proceed exactly in 
the same manner for the opposite side, still leaving untouched the middle stitch. 
Then sew, or still better, crochet the two edges of the boot together at the back. 
Evidently, if preferred, you can soon impart a curve to the heel by contracting 



FIG. 6.—CROCHET tricote on the bias. 










124 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


the stitches in sewing or by slightly decreasing the crochet. At the front opening 
sew buttons on one side, and along the other work 14 long trebles, 4 of which will 
serve as button-holes. 

Now make the sole, also in ribbed crochet, beginning from the toe with the 
same number of chain as for the boot; widen and narrow it by degrees, taking a felt 
sole as a guide, which, like the ribbed one, may be sewn to the boot. Many workers, 
however, merely work a narrow straight strip, then the boot shapes itself to the foot 
somewhat like a stocking. To complete the boot, crochet and sew round the top 
a lace or a band of the above-mentioned balls. 

Before leaving the subject of balls, I may mention another way of making them 
for very twisted cotton. In this kind balls are made at every row, so that the work 
cannot be done backwards and forwards, but only on one side—as in circular d’oyleys, 
or squares wrought from a centre hole. For the first row, work 1 treble into the 
first stitch of the foundation chain, and into the second a scallop of 1 treble, 

3 long treble, 1 
treble, 5 in all; 
1 treble into the 
third chain, 1 
scallop into the 
fourth; repeat 
these alternately. 
In the next row 
crochet a scallop 
into the first in¬ 
tervening treble 
of the line be¬ 
low, then make 1 
treble above its 
scallop, at the 
same time draw¬ 
ing it into a ball 
FIG. 7.— THE coiled treble. by taking the first 

and last chain on the hook, and pulling the cotton tightly through these two at once, 
then finish the stitch in the ordinary manner. 

We have now come to the famous crochet tunisien or crochet tricote. This stitch 
is quite distinct from the former ones, and is worked with a regular tricot needle, 
finished off at the end by a knob, to prevent the stitches from dropping off, for 
in crochet tunisien each stitch of the advancing rows is successively taken, and kept 
on the needle just as in knitting. Proceed in this wise: Make a chain, as a 
foundation to a stripe or square ; miss the end chain stitch, prick the hook into the 
next, draw the wool through, and leave the loop thus formed on the needle; repeat 
to the end of the row, when you will have a row of loops corresponding to the 
number of chain. (See Fig. 4.) 

In the returning row, twist the wool round the needle, and draw it rather loosely 
through the first loop, wool over again, and draw it through the chain on the needle 
and the next loop at the same time ; continue thus to work off every loop. 

Look now at the row you have just made ; it forms a series of loop bars, with a 
chain running between them along the top. This open line will be rendered more 











DRAWN WORN. 


125 


opaque by making the third row; use the chain on the needle for the first loop, or 
a stitch will be lost; then, holding the needle horizontally, slip it through the front 
strand of the nearest loop below (Fig. 4), draw the wool through, keep the loop on 
the needle. When all are picked up, return as in the second row. Crochet tricoti 
forms a close handsome stitch for petticoats, jackets, pelerines, and also for any kind 
of wrappers. When employed as covers or couvrepieds , it is usually wrought in strips 
of squares of well-harmonising colours, enhanced by clumps in relief, or by charming 
designs in passe embroidery, cross and long stitches. 

Fig. 6 shows the crochet tricote worked on the bias; instead of taking up merely 
th z front strand of the loop, take up with it the back one also. 

The stitch, though in itself rather pretty, cannot, from its slantwise direction, be 
adapted to many purposes, except diamonds, squares, and wide bands. 

With the smooth tricote bands are often effectively combined strips in a raised 
stitch, which I will call the coiled treble. 

Make a foundation line of crochet tricote, then 3 chain to turn, * wind the 
wool five times over the hook, pierce it through the perpendicular stitch of the line 
beneath, draw the wool through all at once except the first chain, which leave on the 
needle, repeat from *, and at the end of the row return by pulling the wool through 
one loop at a time. For small things any ordinary woollen hook will do, but for 
wide strips, &c., where the stitches almost cover the needle, it is safer to use one 
tipped with a ball; some of the newest ones are made in gutta-percha, and are sold 
at $d. each. The various sizes required may be ascertained with the bell gauge, 
also used for knitting needles; sixpenny ones answer the purpose very well. 


Section XIII.— Drawn Work. 

Since attention has been directed to ancient embroidery and needlework the 
mediaeval laces have participated in the general desire to understand or to reproduce 
the handiworks that served to lighten the many weary hours that the ladies of the 
Middle Ages, from the state of the country at that time, and the absence of intel¬ 
lectual pursuits, were compelled to endure. The earlier laces produced before the 
fine needle-points and pillow-laces, and known as the mediaeval laces, are the knotted 
and plaited thread laces formed of detached threads, and the cut works and drawn 
works made as finer sorts of linen embroidery, the material being woven linen, which 
was cut and drawn away so as to form a design either with the solid material that 
was left, or by connecting together the threads that remained in those places where 
a certain fixed number had been extracted. 

Drawn work, which is coeval with cut work, originally came from the East, but 
seems to have been introduced into Europe during the twelfth century, and was then 
known as Punto Tirato. During the earlier centuries it was only made for church 
purposes by the nuns, who kept the art a secret from the laity, and adorned vestments, 
grave clothes, and altar cloths with it, making it from finely-woven linen and linen 
thread mixed with silks; but in Persia, India, Arabia, and other Oriental countries it 
was used for secular purposes, and the coarse linen which formed its groundwork 
entirely concealed by the bright floss silks that covered it. In the South Kensington 





126 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


Museum there are now some magnificent specimens of Persian drawn work of this 
description, which are remarkable for their delicacy of execution and judicious 
arrangement of colour. Up to and during the fifteenth century the patterns of 
European drawn works were chiefly made by the solid foundation of the linen and 
the grounds contrived by threads partly drawn out, so as to leave open squares 
surrounded by the threads retained in the work, these threads being overcast together 
either with silks or linen thread, to make the lines dividing the open spaces. In the 
sixteenth century the patterns of the work were made, not by a solid foundation 
being retained, but by the threads left after a set portion had been taken away being 
overcast and darned together so as to make a device, the ground being left open 
after the manner of Reticella lace, which this kind of drawn work imitates. In 
the seventeenth century drawn work attained its greatest beauty, being worked 
out upon the finest and closest material, a very small portion of which was retained 
to form a dotted pattern upon a ground made of a series of fine honeycomb lines, 
the threads left after the others were drawn away being worked over with the 
needle so as to form that shape. It is this description of drawn work that most 
nearly approaches the fine needle-made points that are worked with net-patterned 
grounds. 

After the decay of ecclesiastical power in England, drawn work was little 
practised, the old workers having died out and the laity preferring the needle-made 
and pillow-laces; but upon the Continent, and especially among the Northern 
nations, the work has flourished, and in Germany, Holland, Denmark, and Sweden 
it is still used, and is known as Tonder work, Hamburg point, and broderie de 
Nancy. Real lace patterns are imitated by their grounds being drawn and their 
thick parts made with the solid inen- foundation, and the work is employed to 
decorate the vast stores of house-linen for which these nations are celebrated. 

We are glad that a revival of this work in a modified form has begun in this 
country, as it is a great addition to all decorative needlework when used in con¬ 
junction with it, either for borderings or as squares of alternate drawn work and 
embroidery. It is simple in execution, but requires care when cutting the threads, 
so that the proper number are taken and those left secured. It is formed upon any 
material that is sufficiently coarse to allow of its threads being counted, but it is 
chiefly made upon linen and canvas materials and used with crewel work, Holbein 
work, towelling embroidery, and Kreuzstickerei. The stitches used are overcast, 
buttonhole, and the lace stitches required in guipure (Tart; they are formed either 
with fine linen thread, such as is known as lace cotton, or washing or floss silks, 
acco T ding to the destination of the article they ornament. 

O ne illustration (Fig. i) represents a border in drawn work used for the decora¬ 
tion of linen and fancy articles. It can be enlarged by being worked upon coarse 
linen or Java canvas and larger spaces left, and it can be decreased by omitting 
some of the ornamental lines. The manner of working is as follows :—Commence 
with the stitch next to the fringe. Draw out threads to the depth of a quarter of an 
inch, thread a needle with fine lace cotton, and begin at the back of the material. 
Fasten the thread securely, take up five or six of the threads left upon the needle, 
and make a buttonhole stitch, drawing the threads tightly together; secure this stitch 
by a stitch into the solid part of the material, and continue for the whole length of 
the line. The stitch described above is the one used for the open hems of pocket- 
handkerchiefs. For the second line, draw out the same depth of threads as for the 



DR A WN WORK. 


127 

first line, and work them over with the same stitch upon the lower edging; for the 
upper, repeat the stitch, but take half the threads buttonholed together irom one 
lower edging stitch and half from another, so as to make the vandyked line shown. 
For the third and fourth lines, draw out half an inch depth of threads, take some 



fig. 1. 

fine crochet cotton, secure it so that it will come in the centre of the drawn threads ; 
still work at the back of the material : count off twelve threads of material, take up 
the six farthest away first on the needle, and twist them over the six nearest ones; 




































































































































mliitnllii i» 


128 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 



















DRAWN WORN. 


129 


draw up the needle, and repeat until the lines are finished. Fifth and sixth rows : 
repeat the second row, but make the top and bottom line of button-holes over the 
same threads, so that straight and not vandyked lines are formed. The corners will 
require careful work, as the threads being there quite cut away open spaces are left. 
Button-hole over the raw edges of these, and fill them up with wheels such as are 
made in modern point lace. 

To work Fig. 2.—This pattern is intended for a straight border either for the 
bottom of a crewel-work chair-back, or to adorn the top of a linen sheet. It is 
worked with coloured silks for the former, and with lace cotton for the latter. 
Commence by drawing out threads in a horizontal direction to the depth of half an 
inch, leave an inch space, and draw out another set of threads in the same direction. 
Again leave an inch of solid material, and draw out threads as before, and repeat 
until the depth and length required for the work is obtained. Now reverse the 
drawing out of the threads, taking them from the perpendicular threads instead of 
the horizontal; measure these so as to leave an inch of perpendicular lines, and 
draw away half an inch, and continue to the end of the space. Having drawn away 
the threads, work a line of button-hole round the outer edge, and upon the right 
side of the work; make this in gold-coloured washing-silk. Fasten a double thread 
of salmon-coloured silk in the button-holed edge in the centre of one of the drawn- 
out spaces, take it right across an open square, and when it comes to any drawn 
threads divide them into two groups and twist the last half of the first group round 
the needle before the first half ; repeat throughout the line, and repeat in every 
line of the drawn threads. Run the threads that cross the work over the solid 
squares, and over the open squares, and secure them into the button-holed edging. 
Work over the salmon-coloured threads, filling the open spaces with gold-coloured 
silk, so as to make wheels, and finish off the edge of the work beyond the 
button-hole, first with a line of herringbone, and then with a space drawn out 
and hemstitched, make buttonhole-bars to fill in the open corners left by the drawn 
threads. 

To work Fig. 3.—This pattern shows the manner of working drawn threads 
that is still prevalent in the East, and that was worked in the Middle Ages in 
imitation of Reticella lace. It is made upon toile Colbert, or some open canvas 
material from which the threads are easily drawn away, while the threads that are 
retained are completely hidden by being overcast with coloured silks. In this 
design it is better to draw the threads as required, and not all at once, great care 
being necessary in drawing them out. For the border draw out half an inch of 
threads, leave three or four, draw out an inch and a half depth of threads, leave 
three or four threads, and draw out another half inch. To fill the small spaces, 
overcast four threads together for a short distance with red silk; then divide them, 
and overcast only two together, and when these are nearly covered take two new 
threads, and overcast these with the two already worked over. In returning, overcast 
the two new ones nearly up to the opposite edge, then add two fresh threads and 
repeat. For the centre part, take six threads and connect them together with 
Genoa-stitch, which is made by alternately overcasting the three right-hand and the 
three left-hand threads. Work a third of the centre space in Genoa-stitch. then 
divide the threads, and overcast over three of them for the second part, and take in 
three new threads and work in Genoa-stitch for the third part, and until all the 
threads are covered with the red silk. Overcast with red silk over the three threads 

K 




130 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK 


left between the drawn-out spaces last of all, and make the lines they form thick 
and handsome-looking. For the corner, work all round the square with a double 
line of button-hole, and over the three threads not drawn out, and that form the inner 













FIG. 3. 

square ; darn with red silk, so as to make a broad and even line of darning. Work 
eight armed wheels with buttonholed centres in each corner, rows of button-hole 
stitch, so as to form triangles, in the outer spaces, and bars, worked over vith 
button-hole and ornamented with loops, to fill in the rest of the space. Make these 











































BUTTON-HOLE AND SATIN STITCH. 


131 

loops by twisting the silk eight times round the needle after it has been inserted as 
if to make a button-hole, then draw up the thread, keeping the left hand upon the 
needle to steady it while doing so; work the inside border in tent-stitch with green 
and brown silk, the outside with green silk and in double coral-stitch, and catch the 
fringe together in the same way as in the other designs. 


Section XIV.— Button-hole and Satin Stitch. 

Most girls have some knowledge of crewel-work, the mania of the day, both from 
the instructions they have received and from their own practice, but I daresay that 
very few have ever tried their skill in the white embroidery, or white work, as it was 
once called. This style, however, should be quite familiar to girls who have any 
ambition to wear tidy and dainty linen, and more so now when there is such a 
return to worked muslin gowns, fichus, and collarettes of all kinds. 

I will therefore give you a few hints on this branch of stitchery of modern 
introduction, specially when compared with the long stitch of almost unknown 
origin. To confine my remarks to the two fundamental varieties, button-hole 
and satin stitch, I must first notice the great contrast between the formal 
regularity of their direction and the broken, dove-tailed surface offered by the 
embroidery stitch. This very uniformity of stitch prevents any shading, and to be 
set off at its best requires the richness of relief. The swelling or undulating 
appearance is obtained by padding or 
stuffing. Taking coarser cotton and 
needle than those intended for em¬ 
broidery, you commence by running 
the outline of the flower, leaf, &c. Do 
not make the stitches too long, for the 
nicety of curves and angles—indeed 
of the entire shape—rests on this care¬ 
ful outlining. Proceed to fill in the 
vacant space by row after row of long 
loose running stitches, piercing the 
needle through the merest trifle of the 
ground in order to leave nearly all the 
cotton above the surface. Guided by the shape, you increase or decrease the 
rows at will, in such a way that they merge into one another (Fig. 1), and form a 
soft compact underlay. Quicker modes of padding are resorted to when special 
rapidity is imperative, but these, like all other makeshifts, require the skill of an 
adept to manage them satisfactorily. Hence I will simply mention them: stuffing 
by chain-stitch, herringbone, tacked braid, and loose strands of cotton, guided by 
the hand whilst working. The chief object of the padding is to give the embroidery 
a slight convexity or gentle rise to the centre, and as a general rule the stuffing 
runs in a contrary direction to the overlaying stitches, as will be proved by a glance 

k 2 













132 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


at our illustrations. So, in Fig. i, the running stitches are horizontal and the feston 
vertical in the spots, the filling is circular, whilst the sewing over crosses it. Again, 
in the leaf (Fig. 7) the padding runs lengthways, and the covering widthways. In the 
case of delicate scallops the tracing and stuffing reduce themselves to three, two 
and even a single line, as seen in Fig. 2. 

These preliminaries well understood and followed, you will have mastered the 
greatest difficulty, and can proceed to the concealment of the underlay either by 
button-hole or satin stitch. The former is sometimes wrought in a straight line 
either for ornament or flat seaming, so invaluable in patching, in hiding two over¬ 
lapping edges, or in bringing two edges face to face, thus avoiding ridges or imparting 
a width of a few extra threads. It also shapes entire letters, leaves, and flowers; in 
the latter case padding is dispensed with. Edging, however, constitutes the real 
use of the button-hole stitch purposely called in France feston , i.e., festoon. The 
word at once explains itself and brings to your mind scallops, loops, semicircles, &c. 
The first three illustrations afford good specimens of the diversity in single festoons. 
Fig. 3, the ‘ wolfs teeth,’ is decidedly the most difficult of execution on account of 
its sharp Vandyke, which has so much resemblance to the teeth of a wolf. 



FIG. 3.— WOLF’S TEETH VANDYKE. 


The crescent-shaped scallop of Fig. 1 can easily be drawn out, either with the 
help of compasses or a coin of the desired size. To make the stitch itself, begin 
on the left hand at the extreme point, and secure the thread by passing it through 
the few stitches of the stuffing, for remember no knot is ever allowed in any kind 
of embroidery, still less in delicate white work. Pass the thread downward and 
hold it firmly under your left thumb, while you pierce the needle just above the 
upper outline to slip it underneath, and bring it out just beyond the lower outline, 
opposite the thumb, and in the centre of the loop formed by the cotton. With 
the thumb and forefinger pull the needle straight towards you, gently raise the 
left-hand thumb and draw the thread to tighten the knot, at the same time inclining 
it to the left by the little finger. Practice alone will teach you how to turn your 
work and to regulate the stitches with the perfect evenness indispensable to the 
task; they must lie against each other, neither too closely nor too far apart, in 










BUTTON-HOLE AND SATIN STITCH. 


133 


order not to disclose a single under-thread. The outline should be as bold and 
undeviating as if pencilled by an expert hand. Keep the work well stretched on 
the fingers of the left hand in such a manner that the embroidery itself rests on the 
forefinger. When the border is finished, with sharp embroidery scissors shave off 
the superfluous material, cutting into every crevice, yet without snipping any of the 
stitches. If the work has to go to the wash before being worn, I should advise you 
to leave this cutting out until it has returned from the laundress. 

Often very large scallops are prettily pinked out into festoons of all shapes and 
sizes, some resembling the notches of a cock’s comb, others peaked or gradually 
rounded, like the petals of a rose, &c. In olden times, when feston was very much 
used for the muslin embroidery applied on net, the worker had the trouble of 
making the picot or purl whilst button-holing; this she did by working round a 
long horsehair, which served as a mesh. Now industry spares us the most fidgety 
details, and ready-made purls are sold by the yard. 

I believe these few particulars on the button-hole stitch are all you require, so 




FIG. 5. —STRAIGHT AND HORI¬ 
ZONTAL STITCH COMBINED. 

FIG. 4.—VERTICAL SATIN STITCH. 

we will pass at once to the satin stitch, so called from its smooth sheeny surface. 
The previous remarks on tracing and padding apply equally to this stitch, but here 
only the darned stuffing, or occasionally the chain-stitched, is admissible. The 
satin stitch, in its origin, was invariably worked in horizontal lines; later on an 
exception was made for the petals of the rose, wrought perpendicularly, as shown 
in Fig. 4. 

In many cases the two directions are combined, as in Fig. 5. 

To execute this flower, pierce the eyelet-hole with a stiletto, and closely 
overcast it; then darn straight rows of padding and cover them by sewing over, 
commencing at the widest part and carrying the cotton right round at the back 
to bring it up again in front. By this means the wrong side will be like the top 
one, except that the stitches will lie flat. Next shape the oval frames, previously 
stuffing them in the same way as in Fig. 6. 

On the underlay I cannot put too much stress, and for this very reason I have 
taken care that you should have plenty of examples, which convey more than any 

















134 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


description of mine. If nicely done, your embroidery will be softly rounded off, and 
the leaves, &c., will bear being bent without the stitches showing the least tendency 
to separate. 



FIG. 6.—EMBROIDERED STAR. 


The veining of a leaf is generally traced first, but is only marked out by the 
twist stitch as the finishing touch. (See Figs. 7 and 8.) 




FIG. 9.—SATIN STITCH FLOWER. 


FIG. IO.—SATIN STITCH TREFOIL. 


FIG. 8.—LAUREL LEAF. 


In delicate foliage you will find the lightest plan is to 
by a furrow, produced by working the two sides of the 


merely suggest the midrib 
leaf separately. Outline 






































BUTTON-HOLE AND SATIN STITCH. 


135 


the veining, pad on each side, and start with the sharp point for a few stitches 
until you meet the midrib; then cover one side, only working from edge to centre, 
turn the work and proceed to the opposite side (Fig. 9). 

It requires some knack to define the centre hollow, which is of frequent 
occurrence in satin stitch embroidery, not only for veining, but also for Vandykes 
such as Figs. 1, 3, 4, and 10. 

The stitches must just meet without interfering or encroaching in any way with 
the opposite one, else the beauty of the line will be spoilt. When scallops are in 
this way fitted into one another, the outside one is properly padded, while the 
others, necessarily, are much less so or not at all. Another difficulty of this 
straight stitch lies in the proper shaping of the spikes of the leaves; some jut out 
in triple leaflets as in Fig. 6, or in a series of teeth, as exemplified by Fig. n. 
This jagged edge you have all had the opportunity of noticing in the petals of the 
bluebottle and the foliage of the vine, the daisy, and the rose, &c. There is really 
no rule to give you as to the clear defining of the various dents; your eye will be 
the best guide for the gradual increase and decrease of the stitch as well as its 



FIG. II. —SATIN STITCH 
LEAF. 



vnr*rr 


,,T •f- - 


FIG. 12.—SATIN AND 
BACK STITCH. 



FIG. 13.—EMBOSSED PRIM¬ 
ROSE. 


correct tightness. Here, too, I find the supporting touch of the little finger a 
great help when drawing out the thread. 

To lighten the general effect leaves are often satin-stitched on one side, whilst 
the other is filled up with straight rows of back-stitch, the notches and midribs 
having beforehand been outlined by twist stitch (Fig. 12). 

But a still lighter and truly artistic ornament would be to cut out this part and 
fill it up with lace stitches, a variation which would charmingly enhance the centres 
of Figs. 4, 6, 10, and 13. 

Long ago, in my schooldays, crewel stitch was little known, and all the 
attention was directed to satin stitch, or plumetis. My needlework teacher, a dear 
old lady, would have everything learned systematically, and never swerved from 
her established rules, which obliged the pupils to conquer each stitch in its own 
rotation. We first learned the twist or stem stitch in all its meanderings, then we 
passed to the straight plain leaves, after this to the spots, next roses and all 

























136 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


blossoms, &c., wrought with the perpendicular stitch, and at last the efficient ones 
were privileged to venture upon the jagged foliage, and a few elect pupils on the 
lace frilling. This routine was not completed in one year, I can assure you. 

I just perceive that I have spoken very little of the spots. Their direction 
varies, to harmonise with the annexed design. When very small they are termed 
* beads,’ or ‘ dots,’ and need no filling; if very close together you had better not 
break your cotton at each, but pass from one to the oiher, not drawing the 
connecting thread too tight, for fear of puckering the fabric. 

Open spots are called eyelets, some being quite round, as I have already 
mentioned in Figs. 5 and 13, and others rather berry-shaped (Fig. 14). 

These eyelets are button-holed all round, but the wide part alone has any 
padding, the narrow edge merely being worked over a double outline. To form 

the hole you slit the material with 
scissors, four times describing a cross, 
and with the needle you turn back 
the four underpieces, which will 
eventually disappear beneath the over¬ 
sewing. The ribs of the leaves are 
wrought in satin stitch, but I will 
recommend you a much quicker 
mode, fitly named pomt de poste 
or railway stitch. For this bring 
your needle out at the base of the 
stem, carry it across to the extremity 
of the rib, slip it underneath, to 
emerge again at the starting-point, 
and before you draw it out coil the 
cotton ten or twelve times round; press the thumb on this, coiling sufficiently 
to keep it in place, yet not so tightly as to prevent the needle from sliding 
through; then with thumb and forefinger carefully bring the thread and coil 
up, along the place of the rib; again prick the needle into the point of this 
rib, and pull it out a thread above the first starting-point. This time draw 
needle and thread gently together, and your coil, if well made, will be a very 
good imitation of the real stitch. The needle is now ready for the second 
ascending rib. 



Section XV.— Aprons. 

There is nothing so pretty as an apron for home wear. It seems to give an 
air of pleasant homeliness to the wearer, and at once stamps her character as 
careful, economical, and exquisitely tidy—qualities which she will surely carry into 
everything she undertakes in life. She is perhaps a little precise too, which will 
show itself in punctuality as to time, and as to business-like habits in keeping her 













APRONS. 


137 


engagements, and we feel nearly sure that the apron-wearer will neither disappoint 
nor vex us with any unreliability. 

1 he word itself is a strange blunder, being ‘ a napperon * converted into 
an apperon '—napperon being the French for a ‘napkin/ from nappe, ‘cloth.’ In 
many counties in England it is said that the word ‘ apperon ’ is still used. 

Perhaps the most interesting part of the apron is its extreme antiquity. It 
appears to have been worn from the Fall until the present day. In our own country 
Strutt, who wrote on the ‘ Dress and Habits of the People of England/ gives an 
illustration of it as used in his time, the thirteenth century. His picture shows us 
a blacksmith at work, in an apron precisely similar to the leathern one still worn. 
It is tied round the waist, and thence rises to the breast, which it completely covers, 
and is secured round the neck by a tie. This shape had been in use long previously 
by women, and continued so long afterwards. It was also worn at that date by 
the upper classes as an ornamental addition to the dress. In the fourteenth century 
the apron was called a ‘barme cloth’ in England, and in ‘The Miller’s Tale’ 
Chaucer gives a description of it as worn by the carpenter’s wife. She wore— 

‘A barme cloth, eke as white as moe milk, 

Upon her lendes, full of many a gore.’ 

These many gores are thought to mean ‘ plaits/ or perhaps gathers, which were done 
in the way we now call ‘ honey-combing.’ 

After this period the apron was confined to good housewives in the country, until 
the sixteenth century, when the ladies took them again into favour as articles of 
decoration, and used them of so fine a texture that a poet of the day says— 

‘ These aprons white, of finest thread, 

So choicilie tied, so dearly bought, 

So finely fringed, so nicely spread, 

So quaintly cut, so richly wrought; 

Were they in work to save their coats, 

They need not cost so many groats.’ 

Stephen Gossan's ‘ Pleasant Quippes for 
Upstart Gentlewomen / 1596. 

These aprons were edged with lace, and one of them may be seen on the 
monumental effigy of Mistress Dorothy Strutt, in Whalley Church, Essex, who died 
in 1641. 

In the days of King William III. they again became an indispensable part of a 
lady’s dress, and were very small, edged round with the finest and most costly lace, 
and covered the top of the petticoat, the front of which was fully displayed by the 
open gown then in use. Good Queen Anne herself wore an apron later on, and in 
her reign they were richly decorated with needlework, gold lace, and spangles; 
and occasionally these ornaments formed a framework for a small picture, which 
was painted on satin and sewn on the apron. One of the aprons of this date, 
which has descended to me from an ancestress, is in my possession, and is a beauti¬ 
ful example of needlework. The ground is of white silk, the apron being about 
half a yard square. The border is of leaves in coloured silks, and vines and flourishes 






















































































140 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


round them in silver thread and cord. The fineness of the work is a subject of 
wonder to all who see it It was worn under the pointed bodice, and they sometimes 
had a stomacher to match in colour. 

In George II.’s reign they were worn very long and quite plain, without lace or 
ornament, but occasionally fringed at the end. The material seems to have been white 
muslin or lawn. A curious anecdote is told of these aprons. It appears that Beau 
Nash, the Master of the Ceremonies and the celebrated ‘ King of Bath,’ had the 
strongest aversion to them, and excluded all ladies who ventured to appear at the 
Bath assemblies dressed in that manner. In Goldsmith’s Life of Nash it is said 
that ‘ at one assembly he went so far as to strip the Duchess of Queensberry’s apron 
off, and throwing it down on one of the back benches, declared that none but abigails 
appeared in white aprons.’ How strange a picture of the mixture of rudeness and 
extreme ceremony in the manners of that day ! 

Short aprons of cambric were worn in full dress in 1788, and after that we do 
not hear of aprons being much in use till 1830 to 1850, when all ladies wore them, 
made generally of black silk, and though decorated and ornamented in various 
ways, they were not the entirely useless articles of dress of the preceding century, but 
were intended to combine the useful and the ornamental. 

A great revival of aprons took place when art needlework commenced to be 
applied to them about the year 1874. Since then they have been in constant use 
for household work and lawn-tennis, and they will in all probability retain their hold 
on our fickle fashions for some time to come; but whether this be so or not, all 
young girls should make a practice of wearing them, as they add much to their 
appearance, both at work and at play. 

In our pages of aprons we have tried to gather together all that is prettiest and 
most useful, too, of the modern styles, and in order to please every one of our girls 
we have taken all materials and aprons for all seasons and events. The first three 
may be called ‘ dress ’ or afternoon aprons, and they are suitable for that time 
of day when we are all supposed to have done work, and put on our best frocks. 
The first apron is of white muslin or nainsook; it has a gored centre, and two gores at 
the sides, and is trimmed with tatting and muslin puffings. The little girl’s 
apron is of the well-known princess shape, and may be made of any white 
washing material, from muslin to a figured brilliant or jacconet, trimmed with 
embroidery. 

The third figure wears a charming apron, both in style and trimming. It is of 
mull muslin, or Victoria lawn, trimmed with frills of the same, and a fancy-coloured 
washing braid. The next two figures give the back and front of a housekeeping 
and cooking apron, which is made of a coloured printed cotton, or a sateen, those 
with a white ground being the most suitable. It is edged all round with a frill of 
the same, and has a large pocket which may be placed either at the side, or in 
front, as the wearer pleases. The next figure wears a useful house-apron, which 
completely hides the dress, and so is equally valuable to protect a new or to 
hide an old one. The material may be unbleached Barnsley linen, brown holland, 
or any of the new fancy materials, such as oatmeal cloth. The bands are of blue 
linen with an appliqued pattern in vine leaves of Turkey-red cotton or cretonne 
flowers. Plain bands may also be used. The work-apron with a pocket will also 
prove an immense comfort to those who do much needlework or knitting, as not only 
does it hold the balls of yarn, the cotton, scissors, and needles, but the work itself 



APRONS. 


141 


can be safely put away in it, to be found in order for an immediate start when taken 
up again. The material of our illustrated apron is blue linen, with outline or cross- 
stitch embroidery in coloured ingrain cottons. 

The little girl’s apron with a bib and bretelles, or shoulder straps, is a very pretty 
and stylish pattern, the back being especially effective. Any material, from muslin 
to silk, may be used, the pattern given being made of muslin, with a muslin and 
lace frilling, and three rows of narrow clack ribbon velvet all round, which of course 
requires to be taken off when the apron is washed. The young lady’s house-apron 
is perhaps the most useful and practical of all. It is made of workhouse or Bolton 
sheeting, and has bands of Turkey-red twill laid on, and sewn down with the sewing 
machine. The little design above is worked with red and blue ingrain cotton. The 
front resembles that of the little girl’s, but the shoulder straps cross behind instead 
of coming down straight to the belt. 

The Roman apron is the newest of all 
that we have illustrated. It is made of 
fine unbleached linen, or it may be of 
pure white. It is cut lengthwise, and is 
about one yard and a half long, and 
folded over nearly half a yard from the 
top. The strings are sewn in under the 
fold three inches from the edge on each 
side. The decoration consists of two 
rows of embroidery, which may be done 
in drawn-work, cross-stitch, or even in 
crewels. The ends are fringed and then 
knotted evenly, and the sides are hemmed 
up. The width of the apron is three- 
quarters of a yard. 

The next apron is also called a 
Roman apron, although not doubled over 
at the top. It is made of black silk, 
and is twenty-four inches long by twenty 
wide. The length is increased by the 
addition of the trimming and lace to 
over three-fourths of a yard. The trim¬ 
ming consists of strips of red, blue, or 
white linen, worked in a border design 
of cross-stitch with ingrain cotton. The 

lace is an ordinary inexpensive Spanish lace, sewn on with very little fulness. 

The small design at Fig. 1 is intended to give an idea of the new darned work, 
which has been revived from the seventeenth century styles of embroidery. The 
material used is huckaback \ the price about 10 d. per yard. The ends aie fringed, 
and the unworked end is turned over, like the usual Roman apron, the lower part 
alone being worked. The design chosen is a conventional pomegranate, from a 
series of designs published a few years ago, which are copies of ancient needle¬ 
work. The pattern is traced, and worked first in outline stitch in blue filoselle, which 
should be split to three strands only. The background is then put in by darning 
from every one of the double threads which appear on the surface of the 



FIG. 1. 



































































































142 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


huckaback. The square is, of course, traced first, to keep it even in working. 
The colours chosen may be all blue, blue in two shades, yellow for the grounding, 
and red for the outlining, or even a mixture of tints, if cleverness be exercised 
in doing it. 

The only apron I have left unnoticed is that in the well-known handkerchief 
style, which has now become so common, and is so cheaply purchased, that it has 
passed beyond the ken of our more artistic workers. 












CHAPTER III. 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 































































































CHAPTER III.—ACCOMPLISHMENTS : MUSIC. 


SINGING. 

By Lady Macfarren. 

O branch of study is more generally aspired to than 
singing, none is capable of affording so deep and wide¬ 
spread a pleasure, and yet none more often has an 
unsatisfactory result. Given a good voice, correct 
intonation, and fair intelligence, still it is far more rare 
than it ought to be to hear a simple song interpreted 
with good taste and feeling. 

One of the chief reasons for this general shortcoming 
is want of sufficient preparation before songs of any 
kind are attempted, and another is the choice of songs 
of an emotional or descriptive character, while the 
singer’s experience is yet immature in declamation and 
management of the voice. As to this last point, it is 
by no means sufficient to sing a few scale passages and 
single notes with crescendo and diminuendo on A, 1 as 
is still so generally done ; let the young singer begin by confining herself to an 
octave or tenth in compass, of notes she can sing without effort. It may be that 
only a fifth or sixth at first is available, in which case it will be best to gain the 
mastery of these before attempting to widen her compass. A (as heard in far), E 
(as in babe), and I (as in free ) should be practised equally, being the most important 
vowels, on long-sustained notes, without any modification of intensity, ‘ straight 
lines ’ of sound, firm, but without effort. If the tones are tremulous, it is better to 
precede the vowels with P or T. Great care is necessary that the position of the 
mouth and tongue is the same at the end as at the commencement of the note. 
This exercise may be practised several times a day for some weeks, and should 
unfold to the pupil the sounding-board or vibrating point of each note, which 
enables her to sustain the notes with very little breath. From one note she will 
proceed to several, limiting herself to short scales of two or more notes, and 
passages, such as are found in all good instruction books, for a long time, and 
remembering that the scale of an octave consists of two equal parts, viz., of two 
scales of a fourth, and that unless she can sing the half perfectly she will miserably 
fail in the whole. 

Side by side with the foregoing exercise should be practised those consonants 
that have duration, and especially those having musical sound—L, M, and N; also 
the young singer must train herself to make the required distinction between P and 

1 The vowels referred to throughout these remarks are the Italian or German. 

L 








146 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


B, F and V, T and D, K and G, S and Z. When the consonants and vowels have 
been well understood and exercised, it will be time to consider the diphthongs, so 
difficult in Northern languages. Here we have to face the unparalleled carelessness 
of even educated English people in pronouncing their language ; but the rule that 
governs all other European tongues cannot be infringed in English without manifest 
ill effect, that only one vowel should be sustained for one syllable, such vowel 
having sometimes an initial and sometimes a closing sound (as in youth or in hear, 
pronounced he-er), but that all such pronunciations as chi-eeld, aeengel, maed, 
so-oo, te-ahr, are intolerable. This is a most important feature of a young singer’s 
practice, since a clear perception of the above, or the contrary, must stamp her 
pronunciation either with distinction or with vulgarity. 

We will suppose the young singer to have devoted three half-hours a day during 
at least a month to the exercises already suggested, half-hours divided between the 
study of abstract sound and the consonants in which those sounds are to be framed. 
It is time now for her to consider the different shades of each vowel as used in 
English. 

A will be found to have three:—1, the deep sound as in call (also heard in some 
words spelt with O, as Zord); 2, the clear sound as in father, far (the normal 
Italian A); and the flattened sound of modern speech, as in bad, glad. E has two 
varieties : as heard in glade and in bend. I has also two, that in feel and in fill. 
The adjustment of the tongue that causes all these different sounds has to be 
observed and strictly maintained throughout the note it is sounded on, which is very 
difficult at first, and requires much concentration. One of the striking features of 
bad singing is the fluctuations of vowels as the tongue alters or relapses from its 
first attitude in sustaining a note; it gives a sense of unreality to words and of 
impurity to sound, most disturbing to a musical ear. These seven vowel sounds 
must be practised, both on single notes and passages, until each is clearly impressed 
on the pupil’s ear, and can be assumed and maintained without swerving. 

Next come O and OO (U), which do not admit of modification, and are easily 
distinguished. Then we have to recognise a striking factor in English speech, and 
disinter the sound from several incongruous modes of spelling, in which we find it 
disguised. The vowel in the following words— bird, turn , heard, word, serve —and 
in the before a consonant, is one and the same this side of the Tweed, and at first it 
is not easy to recognise it, and give to the words requiring it their true sound. The 
best way is to write out lists of words for each of the vowels and shades of vowels 
indicated above; first say them aloud, and then proceed to chant them, prolonging 
the vowel sound. This practice will teach more than any explanation. It is 
understood that the vowel sound of English I is the Italian A, with a closing sound 
of I; in 01 the deep A, with a closing sound of I, as in joy ; OU the Italian A, 
with a closing sound of 00 , as in bough ; English U an initial sound of I, and a 
sustaining of 00, as in use; such closing or initial sound not to be dwelt on but for 
an almost inappreciable fraction of time. The proportion of time devoted to this 
analysis of sounds and letters should be one-third of that spent on the exercises on 
sustaining and running passages—ten minutes out of each half-hour. 

It will now be time to take some poem and read it mentally, till quite under¬ 
stood, verse by verse; next read it aloud (only a sentence at a time), to bring out 
the emphasis so as to make the meaning clear, then to notice the different degrees 
of emphasis this implies, and finally to notice the entirely receding sound of the 





SINGING . 


147 


unaccented syllables. Transfer this process to the medium tones of the voice. 
Chant, on a single note, the sentence or verse with full emphasis, from comma to 
comma in one breath, dropping the unaccented syllables into their places. It is 
another striking feature of bad singing to give prominence to and make vocal 
effects on syllables which in speech admit of no prolongation whatever. 

This process ends the course that should precede all attempts to interpret 
music. Unless it is mastered, we shall continue to hear vowels untrue to the 
language; consonants of no particular character; diphthongs in which the 
momentary sound is prolonged, giving the effect of a coarse patois ; and, worse than 
all, we shall continue to hear unaccented syllables, set to notes between the strong 
beats of the bar, pounded into our ears, till we wonder whether any ‘ spirit aerial 
informs the cell of hearing ’ of the young creatures with their morning faces whom 
we have to teach, and in whom we would fain suspect all that is refined. 

Now comes the attractive period of this beautiful study. The young singer is> 
now to sound forth a melody with continuous musical tone. Just as in the 
chanting of words the syllables vary in emphasis, so in music the notes vary in 
intensity, such intensity being governed by the rules of rhythm and musical accent, 
subject, however, to certain exceptions, which it will be well not to encounter at the 
outset. The first few songs should be of a large and simple character, giving scope 
for the deliberate emission of sound, and containing no transitions of expression, 
such as Handel’s ‘What tho’ I trace/ or ‘Angels ever bright and fair’ (for a 
higher voice). In fact, the songs of Handel are the finest and safest mediums for 
the acquisition of an ample and artistic style of interpretation that exist, and ought 
to form the basis of every English singer’s study. Next come the songs of 
Schubert and the beautiful national songs of England, the first containing every 
type of poetical and musical expression, and the second abounding in the most 
obvious melody of infinite freshness and variety. A good collection in each of 
these styles should keep a vocal aspirant in busy study for at lea st a year, 
alternating one with the other. 

And now for the mode of study. First glance at the time direction of the song 
to be learnt, and bring to perception its measure, whether two, three, or four in a 
bar; sing it through first on a single vowel sound, so as to realise the full continuity 
required for the accented notes, until each phrase of the melody flows , and the 
strong beats of the bar stand out in sufficient relief to make the measure clear, as 
the lights and shadows in a drawing. Now compare the musical with the verbal 
accents, and in a good composition these will be found to correspond. Now fit the 
words to the melody, taking care to sustain the true vowels to the utmost length 
allotted to the accented syllables in the composition. When this is achieved, a 
great part of an intelligent interpretation will have been gained, and this kind of 
study will reward the singer by an amount of insight and joy in comprehending the 
composer’s thought which no superficial acquaintance can give. In Handel’s songs, 
the phrases will be found too long for a single breath, and this subject will have to 
be carefully considered in each song, until much experience has been gained. 

Breath may always be taken where there is a comma in the text, and where a 
group of words make sense with each other, thus: ‘ What tho’ I trace ’ * each 
herb and flow’r,’ ‘Did I not own’ ‘Jehovah’s pow’r,’ &c. A very important 
point is the pronunciation of consonants terminating syllables, which requires great 
attention, neither to omit them nor to pronounce them prematurely; this last is 

L 2 


N 




148 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


almost invariable with beginners, and should be guarded against most carefully. 
If the vocal sound does not pass through the letters N and M, these will sound 
respectively D, B; and it is difficult to keep back the letter L from blotting out the 
vowel before it in an ugly thick sound. To aspirate the H where necessary, to 
avoid interpolating an R after A, by a premature movement of the tongue—these 
are rocks and shoals which all English singers, not exceptionally gifted with a fine 
ear and delicate pronunciation, have to steer clear of, sometimes with much 
tribulation. Consonants prematurely pronounced clip the melody of its proportions, 
and thus mutilate its beauty; consonants unpronounced render the singing heavy 
and unreal. In good singing the words should enhince the music, and the music 
the words. The fatal superstition of our young lady singers is that German and 
Italian songs must be sung with their original words, however small the smattering 
of these languages they possess. This is at once to invite mediocrity in per¬ 
formance. The words, even when fairly pronounced, have no ring of nature in 
them, and mostly they are horribly mangled; the music sounds pale and meaning¬ 
less, and it is an undue strain upon the patience of an intelligent person to listen 
to what is a mere pretence. As every good song has grown out of a musician’s 
intense realisation of the meaning and spirit of his text, so every worthy interpre¬ 
tation of a song must repeat the same process; from the understanding of the 
words to their musical counterpart, and a lively sympathy with both. 


THOUGHTS ON PRACTISING. 

By Lady Lindsay (of Balcarres). 

‘You are a musician when, with a new piece, you almost divine what is coming, 
when you know an old acquaintance by rote—in a word, when you have music, not only 
in your fingers, but in your head and heart too.’— Schumann. 

Practice makes perfect; this is the first and best thought. We must try to be 
perfect, for, in music as in all else, we should endeavour to be first-rate performers, 
even if we can only achieve a second or third-rate position after all. It is better 
to have a high standard, although it be not quite attainable, than to set up for 
ourselves a moderate aim, because the very act of trying for something noble and 
lofty (though difficult to reach) is good in itself; it raises us above what is common¬ 
place, and strengthens our minds and faculties until the effort, like every other 
habit, good or bad, becomes a ‘ second nature.’ 

Beginners are not fond of practising; but to a musician it is an absolute delight. 
No one knows really what practising means until he has come to enjoy it: it is a 
pleasure far greater than playing over in society what has been already learnt; it 
is an occupation as exciting, though in a different way, as the excitement of 
reading new music. 

When we play, we are liable to become depressed by the poverty of our own 
performance ; when we practise , hope spurs us on; it does not matter what faults 
we commit, we are only practising, and it is encouraging to feel that as time goes 
on, our difficulties are conquered and overcome. They meet us halfway, and melt 




PRACTISING. 


149 


and vanish from us, even as, when we travel by rail, the landscapes through which 
we pass seem to advance towards us and recede behind us, and we are scarcely 
aware that it is we ourselves who press steadily forwards, whilst they stand still. 

There are three kinds of practising : one, which is purely mechanical, and which 
I believe to be most useless; the second, which is both mental and mechanical; 
and the third, which is purely mental, but which is of immense advantage. The 
first, or mechanical practising, is a mere continuation of that dreary schoolroom 
routine which allows the pupil’s thoughts to wander freely o’er hill and dale whilst 
her fingers, in the most ungraceful and listless attitude possible, tap the keys of the 
pianoforte, or travel feebly up and down the strings of the violin, reproducing a 
monotonous musical exercise until the clock points to the hour of release. 

It may be said in favour of this melancholy occupation that the hands acquire 
thereby a certain amount of dexterity; but the want of proper thought and careful 
direction reduces the amount almost to a minimum; the fingers unstiffen a little, it 
is true, but, through carelessness, they fall daily into new bad habits ; they acquire 
a noisy, or else a flaccid, indolent touch ; they play indifferently out of time and 
out of tune : above all, they never learn to answer (as they should), with immediate 
and well-trained precision, to the call of brain or ear. In such practising there are 
two great omissions : the performer never Jkinks and never listens. For, indeed, it is 
more necessary to think and listen whilst practising than many people are aware of. 

There is a curious self-deception even in the most conscientious kinds of 
practising, and we are all of us apt to dream dreams and slumber at our posts, even 
whilst we fancy that we are mounting guard with thorough watchfulness. Violinists 
are mostly trained to listen to their own performance, in order to acquire perfect 
tune and quality of tone, but it is extraordinary how many pianists play without 
actually listening, their hearing merely occupied with the difficulties of notation. 

The second kind of practising is what practising should truly be—a mental and 
mechanical exercise, the ear of the performer carefully following every touch of the 
fingers, the mind controlling and directing every movement. In this way each 
moment of time is utilized to the greatest advantage; the fingers (never allowed to 
relax their efforts nor to fall into bad habits) rapidly acquire a wonderful agility, and 
difficulties that seemed overpowering before, grow less and less, until they are 
finally altogether conquered and trodden down. 

The third style of practising is one to which masters but seldom turn their pupils’ 
attention, and yet it can be made of immense use to us all. I refer to that form of 
mental study that is sometimes called ‘thinking it over.’ We can practise 
inwardly, whether walking or driving, recalling our past efforts, classing our faults 
or peculiarities, and resolving what we had best try for next time. We may also 
take up a piece of music, and whilst silently studying it, we may learn the whole 
thing, mastering in our own minds, not only the notes, but the rhythm, the light 
and shade, the delicacy of expression. Many great executants have rehearsed and 
learnt by heart on a railway journey difficult passages or pieces intended for concert 
performance. It has often been remarked by musicians themselves how much they 
have ‘ got on ’ at times without practising. This is, of course, the result of hard 
work beforehand, which settles itself down into the mind, whilst a lapse of quiet 
time enables the performer to sift his lately-acquired knowledge, and make the most 
of it by thinking over it and disposing of it in the best way, and whilst the hands, 
perhaps too tired before, are likewise taking their share of rest. 



150 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


This habit of silent mental practice will grow upon those who wish to become 
musicians. There is no art without thought or true feeling, and music is not 
merely a senseless noise. Longfellow, in his ‘ Building of the Ship/ tells us of the 
skilled builder, that— % 

( His heart was in his work, and the heart 
Giveth grace unto every art.’ 

Music is sister to painting. I have lately been reading a book wherein students 
of painting are recommended ‘ not only to practise their art diligently, but also to 
seek to know as much about it as they can .’ 1 

And, again, another painter says:—‘No one ever did a good thing without 
thought, without respect. I believe in laying out just so much earnestness. What 
if Michael Angelo had done his work in the Sistine Chapel easily ?’ 2 

However, it is chiefly with the second kind of practising (practical practising, 
I might call it) that I have to do. 

Masters teach us how to play, seldom how to practise. It is an art we must 
mostly discover for ourselves, and, unless we are personally acquainted with good 
musicians, who by chance study in our immediate hearing, we have to buy our own 
experience by slow degrees. 

Regularity of practice is the first necessary thing, variety the next. It is better 
to work steadily two hours every day, or even one hour, than three or four hours 
twice a week. It is, above all things, necessary to practise when we are fresh ; thafc 
is why the morning is the best time. It is of little use to take up an instrument 
when we are fagged and weary with other pursuits, or over-engaged with other 
interests. And yet it does not do to yield to what is merely languor, disinclination, or 
(in plain parlance) laziness. If there be the least possible doubt in our own minds 
whether we are to practise or no, we shall, in all probability, never practise at all; 
we put off the hour to begin, we make a hundred plausible excuses to ourselves, 
yet, if stern necessity compels, and no plea is allowed to interrupt the daily task, 
after a few minutes’ hard work the languor has worn off, and, with a joyous throb 
of excitement at our hearts, we vow to ourselves that practising is ‘ the most 
delightful thing in the world.’ 

In writing this chapter, I wish most especially to allude to violin practice, 
but, except as regards strictly technical difficulties, the practice of every instrument 
is closely similar. Technical difficulties are explained in any book for students, in 
any violin school. It would be as impossible as unnecessary in this short space to 
enter on the varieties of bowing, or to point out that the violin requires more work 
than perhaps any other instrument, and that to the earnest student who loves his 
fiddle, its difficulties seem to increase day by day. There are many manual 
exercises and technical studies that are necessary for the violinist only, but on these 
we will not enter. 

It is essential for every musician to practise according to some distinct plan, and 
to conform to the rules laid down in his own mind. To those who have the 
advantage of the instruction of a master, I would only say, Ask your master what 
to do, and try to follow him in everything. It is an absolute necessity (if you wish 
to make any progress) to obey the master you learn from, yes, even if you are 


1 A Primer of Art , by John Collier. 


2 Hunt’s Talks about Art. 



PRACTISING. 


151 

painfully aware that he is not always right. You will learn nothing as long as you 
set yourself up as an authority against him. Either do not learn from him at all, 
or obey him implicitly. Even if all he says is not quite for the best, a residue of 
good remains. Whether he be first-rate, second-rate, or third-rate, he is sure to 
be a better musician than yourself. Nor is it always the finest artist who is the 
best teacher. Many a great artist has not the gift of teaching, a gift that requires a 
combination of patience, moderation, sympathy, steady nerves, and many virtues of 
which the exacting pupil is but dimly conscious ! The path of a pupil, however, 
seems to be less thorny nowadays than in the olden times, for we read of Haydn’s 
obligations to his master expressed as follows :—‘ I shall be grateful to that man as 
long as I live, for keeping me so hard at work, though I used to get more flogging 
than food.’ 

Yet, to return to our subject, it is clear that, whatever conditions our masters 
impose on us, practising is for the most part under our own rule and guidance. 
It is well, therefore, to divide and subdivide our efforts, so as to reap the best 
advantage from what may otherwise easily become a mere waste of time. An 
ancient writer says, ‘ The ordering of exercises is matter of great consequence to 
hurt or help, for, as is well observed by Cicero, men in exercising their faculties, 
if they be not well advised, do exercise their faults and get ill habits as well as 
good; so there is a great judgment to be had in the continuance and intermission 
of exercises.’ 1 

There are several different forms of practising. 

1. Mechanical difficulties. Practise either an exercise or a tough passage of 
some sort, repeating it over and over again, till everything that seemed difficult 
before has grown easy. In learning a piece or study, take first the most 
difficult bars, then the most difficult passages, then a passage or two; lastly the 
whole thing. In practising a passage do not necessarily begin at the beginning of 
a bar, but at the beginning of the phrase itself. That is a musical sentence, and 
were you to repeat a sentence in speech you would not cut off the beginning, nor 
yet commence by the last few words of a foregoing sentence. 

2. Play the piece you are learning without any expression or sentiment, merely 
with regard to correctness of time; play it first without a metronome , then with a 
metronome; lastly, again without a metronome , having carefully noticed the bars in 
which the metronome seems to tick too quickly ! 

3. Play over the pieces you have already carefully studied, and play them as 
though you were before an audience, being careful to begin without stumbling, to 
regard all marks of expression, and to phrase the piece with due attention to light 
and shade. Light and shade are in music represented by the words forte and piano , 
and by such marks as these : < > 

But even such gradations cannot thoroughly represent the meaning of the 
composer, unless carefully studied and rightly understood by the performer. For 
instance, sforzando and crescendo do not mean ‘ loud,’ as they are frequently 
unfortunately interpreted by beginners, but only louder, or sometimes only less 
softly; nor does rallentando express a sudden pulling up or extinction of forces, but 
rather a gentle and gradual beginning to decrease, such as occurs on a railway line 
when the engine-driver sees the words, * Slacken speed.’ 


1 Bacon’s Advancement of Learning . 



152 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Before playing any piece, take the music in your hand, glance over it; you know 
the grammar and spelling of it. Divide it into phrases, seek out the air or subject, 
the variations or else the counter-subject, notice the recurrence of the first subject, 
the modulations, or new keys, the after-part or coda. Study it all before beginning 
to play, then play it as though you were narrating a story, a beautiful piece of 
workmanship, a thing complete in itself, not a mere jumble of chords and runs that 
has neither beginning, interest, nor end. 

4. Reading at sight (though I have already mentioned it as an opposite branch 
of study) may well form a part of practising. In reading, long habit alone can teach 
us which notes may best be left out or skimmed over if we find ourselves in a 
desperate hurry or in extreme difficulty. Above all, keep time sternly, pay due 
regard to the melody, and never omit the bass notes in the left hand. The general 
impression of the piece is what is most wanted. As for the bass notes, they are the 
root of the harmony, on which the whole structure is built. Try to gain the habit 
of reading a bar or two ahead of what you are actually playing. You ought to be 
prepared for any emergency, and, if possible, you should know what are your next 
difficulties, otherwise you will flounder terribly. Put as much expression and 
phrasing into the performance as possible. It seems needless to add : ‘ Do not play 
more wrong notes than you can help ! ’ Be ready for the last and first bar of every 
page ; it is a great thing to learn how to turn over deftly. If you are a pianist, 
glance hurriedly over the last bar before you come to it, and play the part of one 
hand with the other; if a violinist, the notation will be more simple, and you can 
instantaneously learn it by heart, and turn the page at any convenient pause with 
your right hand without loosing the bow. 

There is an admirable French book written on the art of phrasing and musical 
expression. 1 The writer says: ‘ There is nothing arbitrary in expression; its 
phenomena are reproduced by an absolute law, like all natural phenomena. 
Composers, in accentuating their works, are obeying conventionality, and are 
impelled by secret affinities, and not caprice. Every sign of expression in use 
represents certain sensations , and is intended to attract the attention of the performer 
to those notes which he should specially appreciate, and likewise make his audience 
appreciate. But even were there no such signs of expression, the true artist would 
still play as though they were all indicated, for the necessity for them would exist to 
the same extent’ 

Technical terms for music and painting are too often interchanged, and yet it is 
no folly to say that music can be grey and monotonous for want of light and shade 
and colour, which should all be judiciously distributed. Well, a drawing master 
may teach you a good deal, but Nature herself must make you an artist, and it is an 
artist’s work to create a right arrangement of light and shade and colour. 

Learn as much music as possible; you thus become acquainted with what has 
been written, and are better fitted to form an opinion. Besides, to have learnt three 
or four pieces, and be unable to perform any other, is no nearer an approach to 
music than a parrot’s ‘Good morning, Polly,’ is an approach to intellectual con¬ 
versation. But, when you have formed an opinion, do not be too eager to thrust it 
on your friends. Continue, rather, to be content to wait a little ; people change 
their opinion sometimes as years go on and experience widens. An old writer 

1 Traiti de VExpression Musicale, by Mathis Lussy. 




PRACTISING. 


153 


says :—‘ All fools are opinionative, and all opinionatives are fools.’ At any rate, do 
not become like Miss Prigsby in Punch , with a dislike for Rossini, a contemptuous 
tolerance of Mendelssohn, and a smile for anything that is not Bach or Brahms. 

As for your own performance, I would say : Be of good courage, because every 
artist must be prone to fits of depression and despair. I cannot believe that any 
student will grow elated over his own efforts, when he considers the great masters 
whose works are bequeathed to us, or the great performers who are amongst us, and 
whose magic touch is, to our poor efforts, what ‘ when Music, heav’nly maid, was 
young,’ the tender thrill that Orpheus brought forth from his lyre may have been 
compared to the rough piping of an ignorant herdsman. 

I could say much more. We have all of us stores of good advice to give our 
neighbours ! But, in writing this, I have sought merely to offer a few slight hints 
from my own experience of forms of practice that I have found most useful. Before 
concluding, I should like to supplement my own remarks with a few words from 
worthier pens—words that perhaps, before now, have helped many a hard-working 
student in the very steep and difficult ascent of the musical Parnassus. 

‘ Music,’ says one writer, ‘ when portraying feelings or emotions, assumes various 
forms and undergoes various modifications; and, being the representation of a passing 
feeling or emotion, has a definite outline, a commencement, development, and ending.’ 1 

‘ Many players, professionals as well as amateurs, endeavour to escape a thorough 
study of their instrument with the excuse that it is not their object to become 
virtuosi. To this it may be replied, that some fundamental study will by no means 
expose them to the danger of suddenly finding themselves virtuosi ; and that, before 
they reach that point, they must first become simply good players. This should be 
the aim of every pianist (or violinist), so far as circumstances will allow; of the 
professional, otherwise he will be subject to the reproach of having lowered his art 
to the level of a mere ordinary occupation; of the amateur, for the fact that he 
studies only for his own pleasure gives him no right to regard his art merely as a 
pastime, or to perform a composition for his amusement, in a manner more or less 
mutilated.* 2 

‘ Technical and aesthetic principles must go hand in hand, for the greatest 
mechanical efficiency would prove cold and lifeless without the animating spirit, 
while no aesthetic beauty could possibly exist apart from a perfect command over 
technical resources.’ 3 

‘ Courageously press forward, then; do not tarry ! Standing still would be but 
the precursor to your going backwards. You have chosen the most difficult of all 
instruments (the violin), upon which it is only possible to make progress—or, indeed, 
to retain in after years what you have already acquired—by constant, daily practice. 
Your instrument is, moreover, the most perfect of any, as well as the one which 
most amply repays the trouble of learning, but not until the player has attained the 
full command of it. Never, therefore, lose sight of this object. Strive at all times 
after that which is noble in heart, and disdain all kind of charlatanism. He who 
seeks only to please the multitude will sink ever lower and lower. Be also 
considerate in your choice of music, and perform only the finest and best of each 

1 Musical Forms , by Ernst Pauer. 

2 Technical Studies for the Pianoforte , by Louis Plaidy. 

8 Primer of Singing, by A. Randegger. 



154 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


species. By this means you will most surely succeed in promoting your further 
improvement.’ 1 

Perhaps above all kind and encouraging guides stands Schumann, whose 
Advice to Young Musicians may be written in letters of gold, to be read and 
re-read and read yet again. But, though I have headed this article with one of his 
sayings, I will not quote the others ; they are short, and are best, not culled or 
selected, but studied together as he himself has grouped them. And now that I 
must bring these rambling thoughts to an end, I would fain conclude with a 
paragraph in the quaint American book, Talks on Art , I have already mentioned, 
for in that paragraph, clothed in rough language, lies one of the best arguments in 
favour of practising— 

‘ When I was a little boy I wanted to learn the violin, but a certain man 
discouraged me. “ Don’t learn the violin—it’s so hard 1 ” I could kick that man 
now! It is easier to eat dip-toast than to play the violin; but it doesn’t meet the 
same want.’ 


ON METHOD IN TEACHING THE PIANOFORTE. 

By Edwin M. Lott, D. Mus. 

It may perhaps appear hardly necessary to preface these few remarks on method in 
teaching with that trite old-fashioned saying that ‘ Whatever is worth doing at all is 
worth doing well,’ yet so convinced am I of the truth and enormous value of the old 
saw—which, like many venerable and generally-accepted maxims, is frequently 
accorded but scant attention—that my friends, and especially my younger ones, 
must pardon me for not choosing a starting-point of a more novel character. 

Touching that branch of study—viz., pianoforte-playing—which I feel sure you 
all think worth taking up, and which I am going to endeavour to make you do well, 
I can only tell you (and I have spent the greater part of my life in telling my pupils 
the same thing) that method, and a method consistent throughout, is absolutely 
necessary from the moment a child’s fingers are placed on the key-board. Aye, even 
earlier than this, when what is usually considered the dry routine of learning the 
notation of both clefs is struggled—sometimes, alas ! tearfully—through. Now, for 
my part, I do not hesitate to deny in toto the smallest necessity for any such term as 
dry being applicable to the beautiful and attractive art of music, nor for anything 
resembling a struggle being needed during the introduction to its elementary 
principles. I believe that no person can possibly impart instruction of any kind 
thoroughly, nor can he even hope to gain the attention and good-will of his pupils, 
unless he be himself master of his subject, and in love with teaching for its own 
sake. 

As, however, the Utopia of education remains yet a land for discovery by some 
Columbus of the future, and for the present, unfortunately, bad teaching—i>., 
teaching without method—still exists, I trust a word or two in the direction of 
reformation by the application of something like system to the study of that 
universally-used and much-abused instrument, the pianoforte, may not prove quite 
valueless. 


Spohr’s Vfiolin School , 




METHOD IN TEACHING THE PIANOFORTE . 


155 


It is highly desirable, if not an absolute sine qucL non, that a teacher, in addition 
to a thorough acquaintance with the subject to be taught, should possess the golden 
virtues of patience and forbearance; of these an inexhaustible supply must be laid 
in, for be sure it will be heavily drawn upon. 

With children just beginning I should strongly recommend the superintendence 
of a governess or advanced student, this being a material assistance to the master, 
and ensuring a safe and rapid progress for the pupil who, thus happily guided, will 
be saved from falling into numberless bad habits, wonderfully easy to acquire, but 
not quite so easy to get rid of. 

Take a child from the first stage of its musical career : a reason should be forth¬ 
coming for everything, nor should the importance of method, even in the minutest 
details, be overlooked. For instance, the child should be made to understand that 
a difference, and a considerable difference, exists between his right hand and his 
left; again, though he may know without being told, that his fingers collectively 
number ten, he should also know that in England each hand is said to rejoice in the 
possession of four fingers and a thumb, which will account for the difference of 
fingering in English and foreign music, though at the same time he need not be 
allowed to infer that English hands are constructed on any different principle from 
foreign ones. 

With regard to the names of the notes, an ordinary child finds some difficulty in 
retaining a string of dodging letters such as E, G, B, D, F, &c. The spaces in the 
treble, it is true, spell an easily-remembered word, FACE; but as the lines and 
other spaces are not accommodating enough to arrange themselves also into words, 
the easiest method of fixing them on a young, and perhaps treacherous, memory is 
to make up short sentences, the initial letters of whose words give the letters of tl e 
notes on the lines or in the spaces in regular order. For example, in this sentence, 

‘ Every Good Briton Deals Fairly/ the capitals supply us with the five treble lines, 
whilst the bass lines may be readily picked out in the following:—‘ Good Britons 
Deal Fairly Always/ and so on. 

The next step on the ladder will be to make the child find out the corresponding 
keys on the pianoforte, then to place his hands properly on those keys. The seat 
also should be firm, the body erect, and should the floor be yet some distance from 
the little player’s feet, he may be granted the indulgence of a footstool, this having 
the advantage of preventing all premature use of the pedals, at the same time 
putting a stop to all swaying to and fro of the body, a fault, by the way, not ahva>s 
confined to beginners. 

A very important feature in musical education is that of scale practice, in which I 
always advocate at first the use of each hand separately, a method less confusing to 
the mind than the management of the two hands at once. The fingering must first 
be attended to, then the necessary evenness of touch— i.e., no undue prominence to 
be arrogated by the thumb, nor any undue weakness to be permitted for the third 
finger. Scales should be practised in circular order—viz., C major, A minor, 
G major, E minor, &c., until we work round to our original starting-place, C. 
When the fingers of each hand, by dint of methodical training, fall naturally into 
their proper places, then both hands may be taken together at the distance of an 
octave; later on they should be practised in thirds, sixths, and tenths, and last of all 
in contrary motion. Thus, by a complete mastery of scale practice, most other 
difficulties will vanish. Scales constitute the very foundation of good playing, and 


\ 




156 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


without a perfect knowledge and performance of them very little hope can be held 
out to any one of becoming a pianoforte player at all. 

One point I would strongly impress upon my young readers is, that they them¬ 
selves are mainly responsible for the proficiency of their scales, after they have been 
duly taught and passed by their teacher. At the same time, I have found it a good 
plan to ask haphazard for one or more scales at every lesson, just by way of a slight 
check. Besides the usual minor scale, which ascends and descends in different ways 
sometimes termed arbitrary or melodic, I would urge an acquaintance with the 
continually-used harmonic minor scale, which is the same in its ascent and descent. 
The only other scale to be mastered is the chromatic, which admits of two methods 
of fingering, both good. I presume my readers are conversant with one or the 
other. 

With regard to the selection of music for study, a taste for the classical should 
always be encouraged. For an early stage the easy sonatinas, rondos, &c., of 
Clementi, Kiihlan, Haydn, Dussek, and even Beethoven, will be found a mine of 
wealth ; at the same time no veto need be placed on lighter modern music, provided 
it has an instructive aim in view, such as the conquering of difficulties in time and 
the like ; for this, easy duets, and for small hands, trios for three performers at one 
pianoforte, will be found both useful and attractive. 

Another point not to be lost sight of is the method of counting time out loud, 
although this wholesome method is as often as not more honoured in the breach 
than in the observance. The metronome is of use for exercises, and it would be 
well for every aspiring performer to remember that he must play to his counting, and 
not count to his playing. 

Progressing beyond the easy sonatinas, rondos, &c., alluded to, the more difficult 
sonatas by the great masters may now be attacked, not omitting the salutary 
discipline of such exercises as Cramer’s, Heller’s Introduction to the Art of 
Phrasing, Czerny’s Forty Daily Studies , Chaulieu’s Exte?isio?is, &c., &c., as aids 
towards the conquest of all difficulties of technique. 

Speaking of sonatas, many young people in the habit of playing them frequently 
would be puzzled to explain what a sonata really is. As far as the derivation of the 
word goes, that will not help us much; some say it is taken from the Italian suonare 
■—to sound ; others trace it to sonetto —a sonnet. Whatever root we may have to 
thank for the formation of the word, the work itself is evidently an outcome of the 
old-fashioned suite depikes; a set of compositions in dance-time much favoured by 
writers in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, consisting for the most part of 
allemande, courante, bourree, gavotte, sarabande, minuet, passepied, gigue. 

These suites were written in the same key, one or two numbers sometimes 
changing into the tonic minor. Couperin, Rameau, Corelli, Handel, and a few 
others occasionally adopted the peculiar plan of placing at the signature one sharp 
less than was actually required, the omitted, though necessary sharp, being always 
the leading note of the scale. Thus, the air known as the ‘ Harmonious 
Blacksmith,’ by Handel, written in the key of E, had only three sharps at its 
signature, D, the leading note, being always accidentally raised. 

When these suites began to show signs of impending dissolution, they were 
used as the groundwork for the modern sonata, from which, by the way, we have 
somewhat strayed. In the sonata the first movement is generally an allegro. It 
should have two themes, each ending with a double bar; afterwards comes a slow 



ON THE CHOICE OF PIANOFORTE PIECES. 


157 


movement followed by an allegro or rondo ; sometimes a fourth movement is 
inserted between the second and third, called a minuet and trio, replaced in the 
first instance, by Beethoven, by a scherzo. 

There seems a tendency nowadays to revive some of the old forms, and to use 
them as models—and very laudably so; for whilst preserving the quaint attractive¬ 
ness of the old styles we have the advantage of hearing them on our modern 
pianofortes, instead of their feeble precursors, the spinet and harpsichord. In some 
suites, more particularly those of Bach and Handel, other forms of writing were 
added to the numbers already mentioned, viz., the prelude, the air with variations, 
or air avec doubles , a very well-known one being the ‘ Harmonious Blacksmith * 
previously referred to, and inserted by Handel in his fifth suite; in addition to 
these we find the musette, which is merely a continuation of one of the dances with 
a sort of drone bass, so called after the musette, or small bagpipe. 

The fugue was, one may say, perfected by Bach and Handel, and this brings us 
still further on our upward course, viz., to the study of such works as the forty- 
eight preludes and fugues of J. S. Bach, exercises in legato playing and phrasing 
that can hardly be equalled, and most assuredly not surpassed. 

In addition to these severer forms of composition an interesting friendship may 
be formed with composers like Chopin, Hummel, Field, Mendelssohn, Weber, 
&c., &c., giving a passing shake of the hand to those of the modern school, as 
Thalberg, Liszt, and others. 

Now as I hold that example invariably gets the better of precept, I look upon 
the best method of obtaining proficiency in pianoforte-playing to be to embrace 
every opportunity of hearing good performers. 

In private practising do not forget method. Begin everything slowly, first 
securing the notes and their proper production, always accommodating the easier 
bars to the more difficult in point of time. 

Never allow any difficulty to discourage you the first day, for if you do, and 
perseverance be neglected, the difficulties will be increased the second day; and 
after that you will have no method or heart left to do battle with any difficulty 
at all. 


♦ 


ON THE CHOICE OF PIANOFORTE PIECES. 

By Ernst Pauer, Principal Professor of Music at the Royal College of Music. 

* Wahl ist QuaV (choice gives pain), says an old German proverb, and, indeed, it 
seems almost as difficult to know what to play as how to play. There are persons 
to whom it is even more difficult to make a suitable selection of pieces, and this for 
the simple reason that they themselves do not know what they want; but to those 
who are conscious of what is necessary to suit their taste and to improve their 
deficiencies, the difficulty of making a good selection ought to appear not quite so 
formidable. The literature of the pianoforte is of all instruments beyond all doubt 
the richest, in as far as the pieces written for this most popular instrument reckon 
by hundreds of thousands. Bulky catalogues are at hand; however, they give only 





158 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


the composers’ names and the titles of their pieces. For this reason the advice of 
an experienced person may be welcome, and assist the amateur in selecting practical, 
useful, and suitable works. 

Every one who desires to play an instrument will admit that a good, clear, and 
correct technical execution is the most important requirement for a satisfactory 
performance—for a performance from which our family, friends, and connoisseurs 
may derive pleasure. For this reason exercises and studies are indispensable. 
But it is more particularly the selection of them which gives great trouble to an 
amateur, who misses the advice of a teacher or experienced musical friend. 
Generally the terms ‘ exercises’ and ‘studies’ are thought to be identical, but this is 
a mistake. The exercise is a technical figure, repeated over and over again without 
change of harmony, and without the addition of melody or any other effect. The 
study, however, is a musical composition founded on a technical figure, and embel¬ 
lished by melody, harmony, and modulations. Exercise and study might thus be 
compared to the material of a dress, and again to the dress made up of such material. 
The exercise is, so to say, the groundwork of technical execution; and technical 
execution, again, is the garb in which we offer the intellectual contents of the compo¬ 
sition ; the clearer, more correct and even this execution is, the greater will be the 
effect produced by the performance. The technical material is not very great, but is 
multiplied by combining different technical figures. It consists of scales, single 
and double ; chords, firm and broken; shakes, single and double ; and of octaves. 

The scale might be called the symbol of industry, gliding on quietly and smoothly, 
without any jerkiness, yet crisp and pearly in its effect; its characteristic quality 
ought to strike the ear pleasantly and satisfactorily. The scale is actually the 
most important of all technical figures; everything in music can be deduced from 
the scale—the chord, for instance, is nothing but an interrupted scale. Per 
scalam ascendhnus would be a capital motto for a collection of scale exercises. 
Every young lady-pianist ought to take Sebastian Bach’s advice to heart: 

‘ Let the scale resemble a row of pearls—each of equal size—each touching the 
other without sticking to it.’ The chromatic scale, again, reminds one of the 
soughing of the wind, and, indeed, every composer describing wind or a storm uses 
for its representation the chromatic scale. With regard to double scales in thirds 
or sixths, the student ought to take care to play the lower note with great distinct¬ 
ness ; slow and patient practice is particularly advisable for success in playing 
double scales in thirds evenly, distinct, and in a thoroughly finished manner. 
Persons with small hands should not attempt to play double scales in sixths before 
they have acquired great flexibility, muscular force, and suppleness in all five 
fingers, and more particularly independence and strength in the third and little 
fingers. Firm chords require great muscular strength, equal force of all the five 
fingers; the inner or middle notes must be struck with the same vigour as the 
outer ones, for the middle notes form and make the chord, the two outer ones 
constitute only an interval—fifth, sixth, seventh, or octave ; but the interval is not 
a chord, any more than that a syllable is a word. The broken or arpeggio chord 
ought to be even, transparent, light, airy; it should remind us of a fine veil or 
a lace shawl, which surrounds in graceful folds the face or body, and does not in 
too great a degree hide the features of the face, or interfere with the contem¬ 
plation of the form of the body. The shake gives lustre and brilliancy to the whole. 
A good, crisp, and vibrating shake produces the same effect as the diamond—it 








ON THE CHOICE OF PIANOFORTE PIECES. 


159 


sparkles, it heightens the charm and beauty, and thus enhances our admiration for 
the piece ; to the ear a good shake is as dazzling as the diamond is to the eye. 

Octaves, boldly performed and rapidly executed, produce a striking, even 
extraordinary, effect ; of all technical features they show the performance in that 
manner generally called ‘ bravura style.’ Bravura is bravery; the soldier is brave 
when he possesses firm resolve, intrepidity, and fearlessness. In the same way 
octave passages ought to be attacked and executed. 

We now come to the point which this chapter seeks to decide, namely, the proper 
choice of exercises and studies, indispensable for the realisation of becoming a good 
and distinguished pianist. Of technical exercises we have the collections by Adam, 
Herz, Czerny, Kalkbrenner, Knorr, Plaidy, Eggeling, Breslaur, Tausig, Kohler, 
Liszt, and others. For ordinary purposes—for performers of but moderate attain¬ 
ments—the exercises by Herz, Plaidy, and Eggeling will be found extremely 
useful and thoroughly satisfactory; for those who desire to reach a higher standard 
of technical excellence, Czerny’s 40 Daily, Tausig’s and Liszt’s technical studies 
(really exercises) are most advisable. Here I may be allowed to intersperse my 
remarks with a small bit of good advice, which is : Never to exaggerate the practice 
of technical exercises with regard to length of time, particularly those within the 
compass of a fifth. Almost every hand, even the smallest, must compress its 
natural size in order to execute exercises within the interval of the fifth ; if such 
contraction is sustained for a very long time a kind of cramp will be experienced. 
As soon as this is felt the student should stop at once, and continue her practice in 
the form of scales which assist to restore the former suppleness and flexibility of 
the muscles, and to remove the stiffness and heaviness of the lower arm, which is 
the natural and unavoidable result of overtaxing the muscular strength. Such 
exaggeration may lead to very dangerous consequences; nay, during the last ten 
years several well-known public players suffered from prostration of the arm and 
weakness of the muscles to such a degree as to make it necessary to consult 
specialists, who tried to effect a cure by means of galvanism and kneading (massage). 

A much wider, almost boundless field is unrolled before our eyes when we look 
at the long, seemingly interminable list of studies—melodious, rhythmical, char¬ 
acteristic, brilliant, bravura, and concert studies—as composed by the foremost 
pianists. I propose to classify the most celebrated of them into divisions, namely: 
strength, velocity, melodiousness, harmony and euphony, characteristic and concert 
studies. With regard to the acquirement of strength, the 100 Studies by Muzio 
dementi, called Gradus ad Pamassum ; Thalberg’s 12 Studies, op. 26; Kessler’s 
24 Studies, op. 20; and those by Henselt, op. 2 (12), may be unconditionally 
recommended. Both dementi and Kessler are more or less devoid of musical 
charm, are rather dry, and inordinately long (five to six pages); but for the purpose 
of gaining strength they are excellent. Thalberg’s Studies, although not bearing 
comparison with the poetical, romantic, and highly original Studies by Chopin, yet 
contain many fine and highly useful points; whilst Henselt’s 12 Etudes, op. 2, assist 
in obtaining certainty of attack, expansion and flexibility of the hands, and a 
decided fulness of tone. 

It would be ungrateful not to mention, for the same purpose, the 24 Studies by 
J. Moscheles, op. 70, or the 12 Etudes, op. 30, by Theador Dohler, and the Studies, 
op. 119, by Charles Mayer. Neither must the vigorous and grand Studies, Nos. 1, 
4, 7, and 12 (op. 10), and Nos. n and 12 (op. 25), by Chopin, be forgotten. 



THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


160 


After having practised all, or at least some, of these studies, and having 
made them ‘ her own/ the performer need not be afraid of an accusation of 
weakness. 

With regard to studies for velocity, the School of Velocity, by Czerny, certainly 
stands foremost. This work has obtained a world-wide celebrity, but his Schule 
der Fingerfertigkeit (IArt de delier les doigts ), op. 740, and his School of 
the Virtuoso are likewise standard works in which every phase of velocity is 
represented. Some of Kohler’s New School of Velocity , and Special Studies of 
Charles Mayer’s, likewise called New School of Velocity (op. 168), Chopin’s No. 2 
of op. 10, and No. 6 of op. 25, and Moscheles’ No. 1 of op. 70, can also be highly 
recommended. 

Harmony, melodiousness, and euphony will be found in J. B. Cramer’s, Stephen 
Heller’s, and Chopin’s Studies. Cramer, although for one year a pupil of dementi, 
imbibed Mozart’s principles—gracefulness, affectionate and sincere expression, 
nobility and charm of melody, and plastic roundness of form. Could anything more 
favourable be said in praise of Cramer’s Studies than Beethoven’s words—‘Were I 
to write a method of pianoforte-playing, I certainly should take Cramer’s Studies for 
its basis’? Heller’s Studies, op. 47, 46, 45, and 16 (thus run the numbers with 
respect to graduating difficulty) are a veritable mine of charming and beautiful 
music; each and all are good, and possess sterling merit. Burgmiiller’s 12 Etudes 
melodiques , op. 105 (rather easy), Haberbier’s Eiudes-Poesies , op. 53, and Herman 
Berens’ Etudespoetiques deserve honourable mention. 

Of characteristic studies those of Henselt, op. 2 and 5 ; Wilhelm Taubert’s 12 
Studies, op. 40; 12 Studies by Hans Seeling; Moscheles’ celebrated collection, 
op. 95 ; Jensen’s Romantic Studies, and some of Franz Bendel (Waldesrauschen, &c.), 
are the most prominent. Bravura or concert studies generally require very 
advanced technical execution. Among the most effective (but also most difficult) 
are Liszt’s 12 Etudes d' Execution transcendante , the same author’s 6 Paganini 
Caprices, and 3 Etudes de Concert (Kistner); also Thalberg’s Caprice (op. 36), 
Thbme et Etude (op. 45), Moszkowski’s 3 concert studies (op. 24), preludes and 
studies by Xaver Scharwenka, studies by Zarembski, Joseph Wieniawski, Tausig, 
Raff, and above all, the 27 Grandes Etudes by Chopin, which in point of originality 
and beauty excel all others. Felix Mendelssohn left us three studies and three 
preludes (op. 104), of which the music is very beautiful, original, and interesting, 
whilst with regard to novelty of technical treatment they offer nothing of importance. 
Schumann’s transcriptions Of Violin Caprices by Paganini (op. 3 and 10) must not 
be forgotten, neither Brahms’ Variations (Studies) on a theme by Paganini, nor his 
transcription (really augmentation) of Chopin’s Study, op. 25, No. 2, and his 
inversion of Weber’s Moto contitiuo (op. 24). 

For any one who has not the means to form a large musical library, and is not 
great at technical execution, nothing better can be advised than to rely on the 
above-mentioned Schule der Fingerfertigkeit , op. 740, by Czerny. This excellent 
collection by an experienced, thinking, and practical teacher, and also a sound 
musician, consists of fifty studies, which treat each technical feature in varied 
examples, whilst a short and concise inscription above each study describes its aim, 
and is in every single instance correctly and satisfactorily carried out. Those who 
can boast of a greater technique will find the collection, New Gradus ad Parnassum , 
100 Studies by different composers, divided into several sections (such as Section A, 



ON THE CHOICE OF PIANOFORTE PIECES. 


161 


Scales and Velocity; Section B, Thirds and Sixths, &c., &c.), suit their purpose; 
indeed, this collection does justice to every demand in this respect. 

Before closing my remarks my readers may accept an advice, given by a teacher 
of forty-five years’ experience. Modesty and honesty are two sterling qualities 
indispensable to any one who earnestly desires to improve. Modesty, in so far 
that one abstains from attempting a task which is beyond one’s powers, for it is 
better to play an easy or moderately difficult piece correctly and fluently than to 
make a scramble of a too difficult one. Honesty, again, is needed for carrying out 
all the directions given by the composer, may they concern terms of expression or the 
fingering. All who wish to gain success have to work for it; or, as old Euclid says, 
‘ There’s no royal road to geometry,’ we may say, ‘ There’s no royal road to musical 
excellence.’ 


SUITES, SONATAS, ETC. 

Among the very oldest pieces extant are decidedly the virginal and harpsichord 
lessons, which are to be found in Parthenia , an interesting publication now 
reprinted in the volume, Old English Composers. 

Strange to say, their effect, when played on a modern piano, is anything but 
pleasant or great, whilst they are very acceptable on a harpsichord or spinet. For 
this reason, and because it is but rare to meet with a harpsichord in good order, we 
may pass over these very old (though quaint, and in their way charming) pieces, 
and begin our record with Rameau, Couperin, Scarlatti, Bach, and Handel. The 
pieces by Jean Philippe Rameau (1683-1764), a celebrated French composer, are 
highly interesting. Some of them are to be found in the collections A lie Meister 
(Old Masters) and Alte Claviermusik (old music for the clavecin), both published 
at Leipzig; but the most celebrated are included in the volume Popular Pieces by 
Rameau (London : Augener); the prettiest are decidedly * Les Niais de Sologne,’ 
* La Poule,’ and the ‘ Suite de Pihces,’ in A minor, containing the celebrated 
gavotte with variations, now often played in concerts. 

Franqois Couperin (1668-1733), called The Great, in order to distinguish him 
from a number of other Couperins, all composers of the same family, has written a 
great quantity of characteristic pieces : ‘ little portraits,’ as he calls them in the preface 
to his works. They are not only very pretty, but highly useful in order to acquire an 
elegant, quiet, and we might say neat and tidy style of execution. The most popular 
are : ‘ La Nanette,’ ‘ L’Enchanteresse,’ ‘ La Diane,’ ‘ Les I dees Heureuses ’ (Happy 
Ideas), ‘ Les Matelotes ProvenQales,’ and ‘ La Tendre Fanchon.’ A much more 
important, original, and influential composer than Couperin was the Neapolitan 
Domenico Scarlatti (1683-1760), of whom there are in print about 200 different 
pieces. Scarlatti possessed wonderful execution ; indeed, some of his pieces offer, 
even in our days and with all our enormous facility and perfection of technique, a 
great deal of difficulty, and require most careful and attentive study. The best and 
most interesting of his pieces are included in Augener’s Edition of Fifty Harpsi¬ 
chord Lessons by Domenico Scarlatti. Georg Friedrich Handel (1685-1759) has 
left us a portly volume of Harpsichord Suites and Lessons. Of these, the suite in 
E major, containing the (French, not Handelian) air with variations, called ‘ The 
Harmonious Blacksmith,’ is decidedly the most popular, although by no means the 
best, inasmuch as the Suites in D minor, F sharp minor, and A major contain much 

M 




162 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


more interesting music. Handel’s Organ Concertos have been well arranged as 
duets (four hands), and may be strongly recommended. Johann Sebastian Bach 
(1685-1750) has bequeathed to the musical world such a rich legacy of monu¬ 
mental grandeur, that advice about the proper and most useful order in which 
to practise his many pieces is really desirable. Generally, amateurs begin with the 
forty-eight preludes and fugues; but this is a decided mistake—for they ought 
to be taken last, as the ‘ crowning of the edifice.’ 

According to my long experience as a teacher, the best order seems to me the 
following:—six small Preludes, six Duets, fifteen two-part Inventions, fifteen 
three-part Symphonies (sometimes also called Inventions), six French Suites, six 
English Suites (particularly Nos. 2 and 3), the Italian Concerto, and some of the 
Toccatas (of these the one in C minor is the most difficult, but also the finest). 
Only after such preparation the earnest amateur will be able successfully to perform 
the forty-eight Preludes and Fugues, called 1 Das wohltemperirte Clavier’ (the well- 
tuned clavecin). This somewhat odd name is stated to be derived from the 
following fact: Before Bach’s time the imperfect way of tuning the instrument 
permitted the use of a few keys only. It is related that Sebastian Bach succeeded 
in tuning the instrument in such a manner that twelve different keys could be used, 
although some authorities hold the piano to be a French invention, or rather 
improvement, and in order to commemorate this important achievement, he wrote 
the forty-eight Preludes and Fugues, being two Preludes and two Fugues for each 
major and minor key. 

Sebastian Bach’s sons, Wilhelm Friedemann Bach (1710-1784) and Carl 
Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714-1788), have written valuable pieces; of the forw er, 
the beautiful Polonaises, highly interesting in point of melody and harmony, may 
be recommended, whilst the selection, ‘ C. P. Emanuel Bach’s Popular Pieces/ 
affords a welcome means of becoming acquainted with the style of this agreeable 
and once very much admired composer. Joseph Haydn’s (1732-1809) pianoforte 
works are at present very much neglected. Of his Sonatas the Nos. 30, 31, 32, 33, 
and 34, in Augener’s complete edition of Haydn’s pianoforte solo works, are 
decidedly the best; they offer no particular difficulties, and contain many fine and 
interesting movements; besides, they are suffused by a natural healthy expression. 
Of his smaller pieces the * Andante con Variazioni ’ in F minor (often heard in 
concerts), the humorous, somewhat eccentric Fantasia in C, and the charming 
‘ Arietta con Variazioni ’ in E flat, deserve to be in the library of every amateur. 
Muzio Clementi (1752-1832) has written sixty-four solo sonatas. More or less 
they are all instructive, and available for educational purposes; but the most artistic, 
and those possessing lasting value, are decidedly the three sonatas dedicated to 
Cherubini, another in B minor (No. 57 of Breitkopf and Hartel’s edition), the 
sonata dedicated to Kalkbrenner, and the dramatic sonata called ‘ Didone 
abbandonata.’ Of W. A. Mozart’s (1756-1791) sonatas it may be remarked that 
most of them were written in great haste for pupils, and consequently lack careful 
finish, and, above all, beauty and substance in the principal themes, which qualities 
he understood so well how to present in his quartettes and symphonies. Although 
we recognise, in the smallest sonata even, the facile pen which smoothly and quickly 
glides over the paper, we are at the same time disappointed at their comparative 
shallowness, not to say emptiness—in short, they are devoid of interest. But, on 
the other hand, his celebrated Fantasia and Sonata in C minor, the Sonata in A 








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minor, with the proud first, contemplative slow, and passionate last movement; 
the bright and cheerful Sonata (‘Trumpet’ Sonata) in D, 6-8 time; and the 
beautiful, almost scientific Sonata in F (common time), furnish a striking proof that 
Mozart could compose splendid sonatas; indeed, these latter works will always 
remain standard models of good sonata-writing. Of the Bohemian composer, 
Johann Ludwig Dussek (1761-1812), only the Sonata op. 44, dedicated to 
Clementi; the (Sonata) ‘ Elegie harmonique sur la mort de Prince Louis Ferdinand 
de Prusse,’ op. 61; the difficult but very euphonious Sonata, ‘ Le Retour k Paris,’ 
op. 70; and the expressive, somewhat melancholy sonata, ‘ L’lnvocation,’ op. 77, 
remain so-called stock pieces, whilst almost all the remaining twenty-eight (Dussek 
wrote, like Beethoven, thirty-two sonatas) seem to be well-nigh forgotten. A 
composer very little known in this country was August Eberhard Muller (1767— 
1817). His fifteen caprices, each constructed in the form of a sonata movement, 
offer excellent material for teaching and learning; more particularly those in C, G 
sharp, and E minor, and those in C minor and G flat major deserve to be studied 
earnestly and with great attention. 

We now come to the celebrated sonatas of the illustrious Louis van Beethoven 
(1770—1827). We need not speak about their transcendent beauty, but we may 
* ivide them into three divisions, according to their graduating difficulty of execution. 
Such a plan will be useful for the student, as it contains system and order. 

The first division embraces the easy, the second the moderately difficult, and 
the third the difficult sonatas. To the first (easy) division belong Nos. 19, 20, 25, 
9, 10, 1, and 6; to the second (moderately difficult), Nos. 2,3, 4, 5, 7, 8, n, 12, 13, 
14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 21, 22, 23 and 24; and to the third (difficult) division, the 
Nos. 26 to 32 ; of these again the Sonatas Nos. 31, 32, and 29 are the most 
complicated, and, with regard to technical execution, the most difficult. 

The composers Joseph Woelfl (1772-1812), Wenzel Tomaschek (1774-1850), 
and Ludwig Berger (1777-1839), may be passed over without further remark; 
but we will mention Johann Nepomuk Hummel (1778-1837), who has given us 
in his Sonatas op. 13 (dedicated to Haydn), op. 20 (very Mozartish), op. 30 and 
38, op. 81 (F sharp minor, very difficult but exceedingly brilliant), and op. 106, 
valuable works of solid construction and considerable elegance. It ought to be 
remarked that his classical Fantasia, op. 18, is still a welcome piece at concerts. 

The sonatas of Ferdinand Ries (1784-1838) and Frederick Kalkbrenner 
( I 784-r849) may likewise be passed over, whilst the sonatas by Frederick 
Kuhlau (1786-1832), op. 20, 46, 55, and 59, deserve a word of warm praise. 
Carl Maria von Weber (1786-1826) has written only four sonatas, of which the 
first in C, op. 24 (containing the famous Moto continno ), and the second in A flat, 
op. 39, are the most popular. 

With regard to Franz Schubert’s (1797-1828) many sonatas—their number is 
21 —only the one in A minor, op. 42, the charming and sweet one in A major, 
op. 120, and those op. 122 and op. 147, have obtained a certain fame; their length 
is great, they lack contrast, and certain parts are repeated over and over again, 
besides there is no variety with respect to their rhythmical life. 

The general favourite, Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy (1809-1847), has written 
three solo sonatas. The first, op. 6, is a juvenile work, full of beautiful music, and 
expressive of a somewhat romantic disposition; whilst the Sonatas in G minor, 
op. 105, and op. 106 in B flat, are posthumous works, and it may be doubted 

m 2 



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whether the celebrated composer would have sanctioned their publication ; for they 
suffer from a certain unevenness, and lack the plastic perfection of form and structure 
for which Mendelssohn was so much and so justly admired. 

Lastly we have Robert Schumann (1810-1856), and Frederic Chopin (1809- 
1849). Robert Schumann’s first Sonata in F sharp minor, op. n, is exceed¬ 
ingly difficult, but its beauty, striking originality, and variety of style are so great, 
that it fully repays the trouble spent on learning it. His second Sonata (also 
called ‘ Concerto sans Orchestre ’), op. 14, suffers from too great a repetition of 
rhythmical figures; besides, a certain monotony is produced by the four movements 
being in the same key, whilst the third Sonata in G minor, op. 22, is somewhat 
fussy and too continually agitated. To any one who has an excitable temperament 
this sonata may even do harm, in as far as it demands an uncommon degree 
of quietude and self-possession, in order to keep the figures within bounds, and to 
retain the indispensable distinctness, accuracy, and correctness. A splendid, 
highly interesting and fascinating work is Schumann’s Fantasia, op. 17. Of 
Frederic Chopin’s three Sonatas, only one, that in B flat minor, op. 35, has become 
generally known; the reason for the esteem in which it is held may be ascribed to 
its slow movement, the Funeral March of world-wide renown. His first Sonata in 
C minor, op. 4, is scarcely known, whilst the third Sonata in B minor, op. 58, is a 
dangerous rival in beauty and interest to the preceding one, op. 35. Opinions differ 
as regards the superior value and merit of each work. 

We next propose to deal with the smaller works of the composers of the Classical 
School, and then to review the most celebrated compositions belonging to the class 
of pianoforte music generally known as ‘ Drawing-room Music ’ 

SINGLE PIECES OF EMINENT COMPOSERS. 

Single pieces, such as those composed by the classical authors Mozart, 
Beethoven, Weber, Schubert, &c., are variations, caprices, rondos, and fantasias. 
Although some of Schubert’s posthumous pieces (op. 90 and op. 142) are called 
impromptus, this title was not given by the composer himself, for the name 
impromptu had never been employed during his lifetime. With regard to varia¬ 
tions, we propose to direct the student’s attention to those most interesting, brilliant 
and useful. 

VARIATIONS. 

W. A. Mozart’s variations comprise twenty-one sets; of these several belong to 
the earliest period of his life, and may consequently be passed over. His best 
variations are those on the air, ‘ Unser dummer Pobel meint,’ from Gluck’s opera, 
The Pilgrims of Mecca, In this beautiful work the ingenuity and versatility of 
Mozart’s genius, not less his wonderful gift of gracefulness, neatness, and sweetness 
of expresdon, are exhibited on every page. Another interesting set is that on a 
theme of the popular clarinet quintet in A; whilst the cheerful and eminently 
bright variations on the air, ‘ Ein Weib ist das herrlichste Ding,’ deserve a sincere 
and hearty recommendation. Beethoven’s variations are far more important 
than those by Mozart; they are really earnest and vigorous studies, undertaken in 
order to obtain from every particular theme a string of rhythmical, harmonious, 
melodious, and characteristic features; indeed, such studies enabled him to write 
his greater works logically, systematically, and with economy; the beauty, interest, 




ON THE CHOICE OF PIANOFORTE PIECES . 


165 


and strength of his so-called ‘ thematic treatment ’ resulted almost entirely from his 
‘ variation-studies.’ The most important of the twenty-one sets are decidedly— 
thirty-two variations in C minor, on an original theme (only eight bars long), fifteen 
variations, and a fugue on an air from his ballet, The Men of Prometheus, op. 35 ; 
thirty-three variations on a German valse by Anton Diabelli (a Venetian composer 
and music publisher), op. 120. Next to these come six variations on an original 
theme in F, op. 34; this set deserves particular recognition for the thoroughly 
original device that each variation is in another key and in different time. Other 
interesting and ingenious sets are those on the Russian dance from the ballet, 
Das Waldmadchen , on ‘ La stessa, la stessissima’ (Salieri), ‘ Es war einmal ein alter 
Mann ’ (Dittersdorf), ‘ Tandeln und Scherzen,’ and finally on P. von Winter’s air, 
‘ Kind willst du ruhig schlafen.’ Of Beethoven’s easier variations, we mention those 
on ‘ Nel cor piii non mi sento’ (Paisiello), the charming six easy variations on an 
original theme in G ; whilst no English lady should miss the opportunity of showing 
her loyalty by playing neatly, correctly, and in a thorough manner Beethoven’s 
variations on ‘God save the King’ (composed in 1804, during George III.’s reign) 
and on ‘ Rule Britannia.’ Before leaving Beethoven’s variations it may be 
remarked that the twenty-four variations on * Vieni Amore,’ although looking very 
simple and easy, are exceedingly complicated and difficult of execution; any one 
desirous of becoming acquainted with all possible intricacies of time will here find 
a splendid opportunity to try her patience. J. N. Hummel’s best variations are 
op. 8, on an Austrian air in G; on the march from Cherubini’s opera Les deux 
journkes , op. 14; on the march from Rossini’s opera La Ce?ierentola , op. 57 (the 
finale of these variations—a kind of tarentella—is one of Hummel’s best pieces); 
and lastly, the variations on an air of Gluck’s Armida. Carl Maria von Weber 
composed several sets: of these the seven variations on Blangini’s air, ‘ Vieni 
Donna Bella,’ op. 7 ; those on the rather monotonous Russian air, ‘ Schone Minka,’ 
op. 37 (in some editions op. 40) : and seven variations on a ‘ Gipsy’s Song,’ op. 55, 
are decidedly the best; excellent and agreeable for practice, therefore pleasant to 
learn. Carl Czerny, the celebrated educational composer, has exhibited his rare 
industry in this branch of musical composition in hundreds of examples; but we 
content ourselves by mentioning only his pretty and charming variations, op. 12, 
on Schubert’s ‘ Celebrated Vienna Valse,’ commonly called ‘ Le De'sir,’ and the 
three Jl L, ‘ The Flowers of England,’ op. 622. Of Ignaz Moscheles, the variations 
on the air, ‘ Harmonious Blacksmith,’ op. 29, and on the ‘Alexander March,’ op. 32, 
justly deserve attention. Charles Mayer’s best variations are : on a valse, by Count 
Gallenberg; on a Russian air, op. 40; furthermore, grand variations on the 
polonaise of Bellini’s Puritatii, op. 50, and on an ‘ Air Italien,’ op. 76. 

Although Franz Schubert wrote variations on an air by his friend Anselm 
Hiittenbrenner, and several excellent sets for four hands, his best solo variations 
are decidedly those—op. 142, No. 3, wrongly called Impromptu. Henry Herz (he 
died on the 6th January, 1888, at the ripe age of 83), once a very fashionable and 
much admired composer, excelled in the so-called ‘ Bravura ’ variations, of which 
certainly a great deal may be learned; the most brilliant, and in their way most 
effective, are on the air ‘ Ma Fanchette est charmante,’ op. 10 : on a favourite 
Tyrolese air, op. 13 : on the chorus of the Greeks in Rossini’s Silge de Corinth , 
op. 36, on the last valse by Weber (really by Reissiger), op. 51, and the capital 
variations in G, op. 48, on an air of Carafa’s opera, La Violette . It would be 



THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


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ungrateful not to draw the student’s attention to Cipriani Potter’s charming piece 
‘ La Placiditk,’ which, although not entitled variations, belongs to this form ; these 
variations were undoubtedly written under Dussek’s influence, as they show great 
affinity with this master’s well-known ‘ La Consolation.’ The original English 
edition being not now accessible, Potter’s work has been newly published in the 
collection. The Classic Companion. Of John Field, the variations on the air, 
‘ Since then I am doomed,’ and those on a Russian air in D minor are very accept¬ 
able. In one of his letters Mendelssohn writes that he felt so interested in com¬ 
posing his seventeen Variations serieuses, op. 54, that he tried himself in two other 
sets, op. 82 in E flat, and op. 83 m B flat; the themes of all these sets are his own, 
and as they are well known, and in a certain degree popular, we may pass on to 
Robert Schumann, who composed four sets : op. 1 on the name ‘ Abegg’; op. 5, on 
an air by Clara Wieck (afterwards Madame Schumann); op. 13, the celebrated 
‘Etudes (Variations) Symphoniques ’; and op. 14, on an air by Clara Wieck, 
belonging to the Concerto sans Orchestre, now generally called Second Sonata. 
Curiously enough, the first set, although full of charming, elegant, and brilliant 
points, is scarcely ever played. About the beauty of Frederic Chopin’s variations 
on ‘ La ci darem,’ Schumann wrote an enthusiastic account; but, in spite of his 
praise, these variations are but seldom played, and their practical use is eclipsed by 
Chopin’s graceful, fascinating and original variations on the beautiful air, ‘ Je vends 
des Scapulaires,’ op. 12. This charming theme belongs to the opera, Ludovic , 
begun by the French composer, Herold, and after his death finished by Halevy. 

W. H. Bennett’s ‘Tema con Variazioni,’ op. 31; Ferdinand Hiller’s ‘ Huit 
mesures variees,’op. 57; Adolph Henselt’s variations on the pretty air, ‘ Io son 
ricco,’ from Donizetti’s cheerful opera, LElisir d'Amore, op. 1; Thalberg’s work 
on the same melody (op. 66); Vincent Wallace’s variations on ‘ The Blue Bells of 
Scotland,’ and his. very easy set called ‘ Le Tyrol ’; Carl Reinecke’s interesting 
variations on an air by Sebastian Bach, op. 52, each and all merit great attention. 
In case the reader is inclined to spend her time on some very difficult, 
intricate, but highly effective variations, we may recommend Liszt’s collective work 
called Hexameron, variations on the fiery air, ‘ Suoni la Tromba,’ from Bellini’s 
Fnritani, for which work Chopin, Czerny, Herz, Liszt, Pixis (his name is scarcely 
known in England), and Thalberg contributed each a variation. This collection, 
a real unicum, is highly interesting, as it represents the difference of style of six 
individual composers. Johannes Brahms’ variations on airs by Schumann, op. 9, 
and Handel, op. 24; besides the beautiful sets on a Hungarian air, op. 21, and last 
not least on an original theme—belong to the best and most carefully finished works 
of the celebrated composer. The industrious student has here work for many 
months—nay, for years, and the short remarks with which we introduced the various 
sets of variations will facilitate in a certain degree the proper choice. Before pro¬ 
ceeding to the so-called drawing-room music, a few hints concerning the selection 
of rondos, fantasias, and similar shorter pieces may be acceptable. 

4 

RONDOS. 

Mozart’s rondos in A minor (difficult) and D major (easy) ; Beethoven’s rondos 
in C (easy) and G, op. 51 (moderately difficult), and the very spirited and 
humorous rondo, op. 129; Weber’s popular and brilliant rondo in E flat, op. 62; 



ON THE CHOICE OF PIANOFORTE PIECES . 


167 

Hummel’s easy rondo in E flat, op. 11, and difficult one in B minor, op. 109 ; John 
Field’s sweet rondo, ‘ Reviens, reviens ’; Sterndale Bennett’s graceful ‘ Rondo piace- 
vole,’ op. 25 ; Mendelssohn’s universally popular Andante and Rondo capriccioso, 
op. 14: Stephen Heller’s exceedingly pretty ‘ Rondino brillant,’ op. 15; his very 
easy four rondos, op. 22, on airs from Donizetti’s Favorita, and four likewise easy 
Rondos, op. 23, on airs of Halevy’s Guitarrero , are standard pieces; the same 
remarks apply to Chopin’s rondo, op. 1, his very brilliant ‘ Krakovihk,’ op. 14, and 
his rondo, op. 16. 


FANTASIAS, ETC. 

Of original fantasias we may mention Sebastian Bach’s ‘ Fantasia Cromatica,’ a 
monumental work; his smaller fantasia in C minor; Mozart’s fantasias in C minor 
(preceding the C minor sonata), and another in the same key, dedicated to his wife; 
and an easy but beautiful and in its way highly effective one in D minor; 
Beethoven’s interesting and remarkably original fantasia, op. 77; Hummel’s 
excellent fantasia, op. 18; Mendelssohn’s, op. 28; Robert Schumann’s, op. 17, 
dedicated to Liszt (Schumann intended to call the three different movements, 

‘ Ruins, Triumphal Arch, and Starlight Night ’); Chopin’s grand and noble 
fantasia, op. 49; Schubert’s (op. 15) on his song, ‘The Wanderer’; and Bennett’s 
* Grand Fantasia,’ op. 16. 

It may be remarked that long fantasias are not suited to the present taste, a 
taste more favourable to short, piquant, sharply rhythmical and richly harmonised 
pieces, which are also expected to be brilliant, graceful, elegant, and thus fas¬ 
cinating. Many fair amateurs are sorely deficient in giving accent and emphasis, 
and thus the effect their performance produces is at times an indifferent, tame, 
languid, nay, even monotonous one. To counteract these defects, nothing is 
better than to play good and spirited marches, for in the march it is more rhythm 
and accent than melody which produces the proper effect; of course, if sharp and 
precise rhythm is united with pleasant and simply-constructed melody, so much the 
better, but such a combination is rarely found. Handel’s and Mozart’s marches 
lack sharp and invigorating rhythm, but some of Beethoven’s marches possess it— 
for instance, the ‘Turkish’ and ‘Solemn’ march from his Ruins of Athens, the 
marches from Egmo?it and Fidelio , the three marches, op. 45 (duet and solo), and 
the military march in D. Better than those of Beethoven are the different sets of 
marches by Franz Schubert, op. 27, op. 40, and op. 121. An excellent march is that 
by Franz Lachner, from his first suite, op. 113 ; whilst Richard Wagner’s marches 
from Tamihauser, Rienzi, Lohengrin , Emperor’s, and Friedens Marsch, have made 
the round of the world. Equally celebrated are Mendelssohn’s Wedding, Athalia 
and Hero’s Marches; Meyerbeer’s Coronation March from The Prophet , his several 
‘ Marches aux flambeaux,’ Gounod’s Soldiers’ March from Faust , and Festival 
March from Queen Sheba (here called Irene). Of brilliant marches, originally com¬ 
posed for piano, and not being arrangements, we name : Henry Herz’s ‘ Marche 
Mexicaine,’ op. 106 (excellent), Wollenhaupt’s fiery and exhilarating marches, 
op. 19 and op. 31; and Joseph Ascher’s bright and spirited ‘Fanfare Militaire,’ 
op. 40, and ‘Marche des Mousquetaires,’ op. 72. Indeed, there is in this par¬ 
ticular branch no want of good and excellent material, and my experience as a 
teacher has often convinced me that a proper choice of well-marked, strongly 
rhythmical music is cheering and encouraging to the pupil; it brings brightness, 







THE GIRL'S OWE INDOOR BOOK. 


16S 


good temper, and encouragement into the work, for the mind of our young friends 
ought never to feel depressed by lifeless, dull, or monotonous music. A young 
student wants and deserves something that is sympathetic, strikes the fancy, and 
wins favour, and in as far as a spirited march reminds of out-door life, of the bracing 
and exhilarating air, such cheerful music is appropriate, as it assists in enlivening 
the lesson and in raising the spirits of the pupil. 


DRAWING-ROOM MUSIC. 

There is no doubt that of all arts music is the one best able to contribute 
towards social amusement, for music can show itself useful and influential under 
circumstances in which other arts would prove, not exactly powerless, but certainly 
not immediately practical. The so-called drawing-room music generally consists of 
pieces belonging to the romantic and lyric school, and it greatly recruits from dance 
music. We do not wish or expect to meet in a drawing-room piece with an ex¬ 
hibition of the composer’s scientific attainments; we merely desire to hear a short, well- 
written, elegant, graceful, tasteful, fascinating, melodious —at times brilliant—piece, 
which offers pleasure and an agreeable diversion. It often happens that a composer, 
lacking sufficient inventive faculty for writing a good sonata, quartette, or symphony, 
may yet possess enough talent to compose a charming piece acceptable for the 
drawing-room. Few audiences care for long orchestral works, or for sonatas 
with four movements. Strictly classical music does not suit every one’s taste ; the 
public mostly desires variety, pleasure, and a certain excitement, and—generally 
speaking—it is the lighter style, the less scientifically constructed, easier and more 
comprehensive kind of music, which affords to the general listener amusement, and 
captivates his attention in a pleasant manner. It would be a great mistake to think 
that such lighter style of music must be of inferior quality with regard to artistic 
value, for just as the painter of small ‘ genre pictures ’ can exhibit his technical 
skill and superior gifts, and rival the larger productiqns of the painters of great 
historical or symbolic pictures, so can the composer of a short nocturne or 
ballad show his originality and taste, and exhibit his mastery of handling a subject 
successfully, although it be smaller and less important than that requisite for a 
symphony. Oliver Goldsmith’s lines seem here very appropriate: 

Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, 

These little things are great to little man; 

And wiser he whose sympathetic mind 
Exults in all the good of all mankind. 

The number of pieces written for the salon or drawing-room is enormous. To 
say that there exist about half a million of such pieces is understating their number, 
for hundreds and hundreds—nay, thousands of pages in numerous catalogues are 
filled with their titles. For our immediate purpose it is therefore necessary to 
arrange the best of them according to a certain system, and to classify them 
according to a definite order, or else confusion will and must be the result. We 
propose to arrange them, first in fancy pieces; second, transcriptions of songs and 
national melodies; third, in paraphrases or brilliant arrangements (sometimes also 
called metamorphoses) of operatic airs; and fourth, into arrangements of national 
and original dances. To the class of fancy pieces undoubtedly belong nocturnes and 





ON THE CHOICE OF PIANOFORTE PIECES. 


169 


serenades, ballads, songs without words, romanzas, impromptus, barcaroles, elegies, 
idyls, eclogues, and similar original, not transcribed, pieces. The form of the 
nocturne (Ital. notturno serejiata ) was first used by John Field, an Irish composer 
and pianist (1782—1837). Of his eighteen nocturnes, one in B flat, 12-8 time, one 
in A, 6-8 time, generally called ‘ Nocturne Pastoral,’ another in A (common time), 
and a beautifully singing and highly expressive one in D minor, are decidedly the 
best. Frederic Chopin (1809-1849) composed nineteen nocturnes; eighteen of 
these were published during his lifetime, and the nineteenth appeared in the collec¬ 
tion of his posthumous works; of these the most popular are Nos. 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, n, 
I2 , 13 (the last two are difficult), 15 and 18. It is advisable to begin with Nos. 2, 
11, and 15, and to play the remaining numbers somewhat later. Of Sigismund 
lhalberg’s nocturnes, the operas 21 (containing three numbers), 28 and 35 are 
decidedly the best; they are of moderate difficulty, but not nearly so original or 
poetic as those by Chopin; they are conceived more in a slightly conventional and 
cold style. Of Adolph Henselt (1814) the nocturnes op. 6 and op. 32, and the 
charming ‘ Morgenstiindchen ’ (morning serenade, really Aubade) can be warmly 
recommended. We have several dozens of (rather sentimental) nocturnes by Charles 
Mayer (1799-1862) ; of these the best, although little known, are op. 81, op. 135, 136 
and 176. 

The nocturnes by Theodor Kullak (1818-1882), op. 9, 35, 104 (No. 1), Theodor 
Dohler (1814-1855), op. 24, very celebrated, op. 25 (two), 31 (two), 39 (No. 5), 
52 (three), 69 and 70; Stephen Heller (1815-1888), op. 91 (three), and Anton 
Rubinstein (1830), op. 9 (two), op. 15 (No. 3), op. 28 (No. 1), op. 44 (No. 3) are 
sure to give pleasure and to be found useful. Among the more brilliant nocturnes 
are those by Julius Schulhoff (1825), op. 11, 19 and 40; Moritz Moszkowski (1854), 
op. 15 (No. 1), Xaver Scharwenka and Joseph Wieniawski and Wollenhaupt (‘ Reve 
de Bonheur’). Any one desirous of saving time and trouble in choosing nocturnes, 
may advantageously turn to Augener’s Nocturne Albums, Vols. I., II., each book 
containing 12 carefully selected nocturnes of different composers. Of good and 
interesting ballads the number is small; indeed Chopin’s Ballades, No. 1 in G 
minor, No. 2 in F, No. 3 in A flat (this is at present the most popular one), and 
No. 4 in F minor; those by Johannes Brahms, op. 10 and Reinecke’s Ballade, 
op. 20, are generally considered the best. About 1831 Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy 
introduced the ‘ Lieder ohne Worte ’ (songs without words). The rather contradic¬ 
tory title—for the words are the reason of the existence of a song—was invented by 
a female relative of the celebrated composer, and caught at once the public fancy 
in such a degree that Mendelssohn reluctantly agreed to retain the title for six 
following collections, each containing six songs. Only six books were published 
under the direction of the composer; the seventh is a posthumous collection, con¬ 
taining good and valuable material; whilst the eighth book, containing sketches, hastily 
written trifles for private albums, is merely a publisher’s speculation, which would 
have been scouted by the excellent composer. It is but rarely that posthumous 
publications enhance the reputation of an author. The popularity of these beautiful 
musical poems is so great that it seems unnecessary to speak of them in detail. 

Romanzas have been written by Schumann, op. 28 (three) and op. 32, No. 3 ; Franz 
Liszt (called Consolations); Sigismund Thai berg, op. 41 and 42 ; Sterndale Bennett, 
op. 14 (three), and Genevibve, and by many less known composers. To this 
category of pieces belong also Adolph Jensen’s poetic and interesting collection: 




THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


170 

‘ Erotikon,’ ‘ Erinnerungen * (Recollections), and ‘ Innere Stimmen.’ The most 
celebrated impromptus are op. 90 (four) and 142 (four), by Franz Schubert, and 
op. 29, 36, and 51 by Chopin. There is also the well-known and popular Fantaisie 
Impromptu in C sharp minor by Chopin, compiled from two sketches—the first 
intended for a study, the second for a nocturne—by Jules Fontana, a pupil and 
friend of the Polish composer. Rubinstein and Schulhoff have also composed 
impromptus; of the latter composer the impromptu called ‘ Chanson a boire ’ has 
become very celebrated. With regard to form, Schumann’s six intermezzi, op. 4, 
might also pass for impromptus. Strange to say, these—exceedingly original and 
highly interesting—are scarcely known and never played in public. 

The best barcaroles are those of Chopin, op. 60 (very difficult); Thalberg, op. 60 
(highly effective); several of Rubinstein (in F, G major, A minor); Sterndale Bennett’s 
lovely barcarole from his 4th concerto, op. 19 ; a barcarole by Emile Prudent, 
op. 44 ; one in A minor, op. 15, and another in G, op. 27, No. 1, by Moszkowski; 
barcaroles by Charles Mayer, op. 174, No. 10; Franz Bendel, op. 139; Jules 
Schulhoff, op. 8, No. 3; Alexander Goria, op. 17; Stephen Heller, op. 81, and 
Alfred Jaell, each and all deserve recommendation. Very good elegies (elegy: a 
poem or song expressive of sorrow and lamentation) are at hand by Schulhoff, 
op. 2, No. 3, op. 45, No. 1; Niels W. Gade, op. 19, No. 1, and Stephen Heller, 
op, 71. Eclogue and idyl are names borrowed from poetry (see Virgil’s Eclogues , 
Gessner’s Idyls), and have been adapted as a lightly-constructed, somewhat simple 
musical form. Eclogues have been written by Wenzel Tomaschek, op. 35 and 39, 
and Stephen Heller (Schott and Co.); whilst Idyls have been composed by Gade 
(op. 34) and Schulhoff, op. 23, 27 and 36. In passing to the transcriptions of 
songs, we may at once say that Franz Liszt’s transcriptions of Beethoven’s, 
Schumann’s, Schubert’s, Mendelssohn’s and Robert Franz’s songs are decidedly 
the best; Liszt was particularly successful in elaborating the character of the song 
itself. Likewise, Adolph Henselt’s transcriptions of songs by Naroff, Glinka, 
Taneef, Wielhorski, and other Russian composers, deserve great praise. A word of 
commendation must likewise be accorded to Stephen Heller’s brilliant transcriptions 
of Schubert’s song ‘La Truite,’ op. 333, ‘La Poste,’ op. 35, ‘ Eloge des Larmes,’ 
op. 36, Mendelssohn’s ‘On Song’s bright Pinions,’ Schumann's ‘Am fluthenreichen 
Ebro’; not less to Thalberg’s ‘ L’art du Chant’ (18 numbers); to Franz Bendel’s 
paraphrases of songs by Franz, Brahms, Rubinstein, Jensen, &c. ; furthermore to 
Spindler’s (easier) arrangements of Schubert’s songs, to Kullak’s too little known but 
excellent ‘ Songs of the Olden Time,’ op. 80; and lastly, Gounod’s effective arrange¬ 
ments of his own most popular songs. In brilliant transcriptions of national songs, 
the palm must also be accorded to Liszt; we merely mention his respective works on 
Hungarian (Rhapsodies 1-15), Russian (le Rossignol), Italian (Soirees italiennes 
1-6, Nuits d’ete h Pausilippe 1-3), and Spanish (El Contrabandista) airs. The 
pianists Jaell, Schulhoff (Chanson slave, Bohemian airs), Fumagalli (Tuscan 
melodies) Kullak, Grieg (Norwegian airs), Gade (Danish airs), Raff, Thalberg, and 
Willmers have been successful in producing more or less interesting and effective 
transcriptions, which are also called paraphrases, metamorphoses, improvisatas. Of 
similar works on operatic airs, those by Liszt, Thalberg, Charles Mayer, Stephen 
Heller (op. 37), Raff, Henselt (transcriptions of Weber’s Freyschutz airs) Wilmers 
and Wollenhaupt (Trovatore and Traviata) are the most popular. 

We now come to dance music. Schubert’s valses have been transcribed by Liszt 







ON THE CHOICE OF PIANOFORTE PIECES , 


171 


(under the title “ Soirees de Vienne;” of these books No. 6 is the most popular); 
some of Strauss jun.’s valses have been ‘paraphrased’ by Tausig (Nouvelles 
Soirees de Vienne); whilst original valses have been composed by Chopin, op. 18, 
op. 34 (three), op. 42, op. 64 (three), and a few posthumous ones; by Thalberg, 
op. 47, op. 62 (Valse m^lodique), and op. 64 (Les Capricieuses, most excellent); 
by Schulhoff, op. 6, op. 20, op. 48, and ‘ Une Valse’ (musique intime); by Joseph 
Wieniawski, op. 7 (very elegant); by Rubinstein, (valse Caprice, German valse); 
Wollenhaupt (He.lbne, Valse Heroique, Valse de Concert in F sharp); Johannes 
Brahms (these are classical); M. Moszkowski, X. Scharwenka, and others. Among 
mazurkas (Masur, Mazurek: a dance from the Polish district Massovia, where the 
inhabitants are called ‘ Masures ’), those by Chopin stand highest; but excellent 
mazurkas have been composed by Edward Wolff, Joseph Wieniawski, Scharwenka 
(Polish dances, op. 3), Schulhoff, Moszkowski, and Anton Rubinstein. Good 
polonaises have been written by Chopin, Charles Mayer, Liszt, Rubinstein, Wolff 
Wieniawski, Bennett (very pretty but not very Polish), and Reinecke. Fiery galops 
are to be had by Liszt (‘ Galop Chromatique ’), Schulhoff, Wollenhaupt (op. 24, and 
op. 43), Charles Mayer (‘Galop Militaire’ No. 1), Edward Bache (‘L’Irresistible’), 
Rubinstein (op. 14, No. 9), Ketterer (‘Flick and Flock’), very cheerful, animated; 
and by Ch. Voss, op. 124 (‘Grand Galop Militaire’). Good Polkas (really polka, 
which means half, very likely alluding to the small ‘half’-step) are provided by 
Rubinstein (op. 14, No. 6 and 7), by Schulhoff (op. 33), Wollenhaupt (‘ La Violette,’ 

* La Gazelle’), J. Ascher (‘Vaillance’), Goria (‘Miranda,’ op. 26, No. 2), by Henri 
Herz (op. *40, ‘ Les Belles du Nord,’ 1-6, ‘ La Polka des Clochettes,’ op. 160, No. 
2, ‘ La Californienne,’ op. 167, and ‘ La Tapada,’ op. 171). The two last are very 
effective; by Gottschalk, op. 25 and op. 27. 

I think my fair readers have here a selection which will last them for several years 
to come. The pieces named form part of the repertory I use for teaching, and 
thus knowing their specialities I can recommend them in good faith. Many 
hundreds—nay thousands of other good pieces exist, but in as far as my aim was 
solely to assist the amateur in a proper choice of good, agreeable, effective, and 
brilliant music, and not to write a regular guide, the above selection will prove 
sufficient. I may close this chapter with a remark made in a lecture on ‘ Drawing¬ 
room Music,’ namely, ‘that the clever amateur who has at command a large, 
interesting, and varied repertory, is sure to interest many persons who would 
otherwise have passed him over with indifference. Indeed, the power music 
possesses in contributing towards social pleasure, comfort, and happiness cannot 
be over-estimated. Music is the universal language which every one understands, 
and to be able to speak in this most eloquent language a kind and agreeable word to 
every one, is an art well worth acquiring, and whose possession is worth working for, 
and a real pleasure to possess.’ 


• * 





172 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


HOW TO PLAY THE VIOLIN. 

By Lady Lindsay (of Balcarres). 

I have been asked to write upon the art 
of violin playing, but, whilst doing so, I am 
well aware that it is far easier to say how the 
violin should be played than to play it, and 
many a girl who reads this chapter, and 
who has grown discouraged and despondent 
over the manifold difficulties of her favourite 
instrument, will doubtless agree with such a 
statement. Still, there are some beginners 
and students who, though persevering and 
conscientious, are uncertain whether they are 
really following the wisest course of study ; 
to them much conflicting advice is usually 
given, until they scarcely know what they 
should do or leave undone, and to them, 
perhaps, a few words of explanation and 
encouragement from a fellow-worker may 
not come amiss. 

First of all, there is no doubt that the violin, whilst it is perhaps the most 
beautiful and fascinating musical instrument we possess, is difficult in absolute 
proportion to its beauty. No one should attempt to learn the violin who is not 
prepared to give up much time to it, to make many sacrifices for it, and to serve, 
like Jacob, many years for his beloved object. Very much work is required for the 
smallest result. The beginning is possibly not so difficult as might be fancied ; our 
friends and we ourselves are surprised to find that we can pick cut a popular tune 
on four strings. We are delighted; but, as time goes on, and we leave the 
comfortable harbour of the 1st position and the safe anchorage of open strings, and 
sail out amongst the stormy seas of the 2nd , 377/, 4//z, 5 th and 6 th positicns> 
grappling with double stopping , arpeggios , and passages, the intricacies of which are 
felt much more keenly by performers than listeners, we begin to know something of 
the hard work and toil that lies before us, growing seemingly ever harder and 
more uncompromising. 

Yet such work is not without its reward. The greater the struggle the greater 
the reward, and it sometimes happens that, as it is darkest before dawn, when we 
are most out of heart we are making the most progress. It is best to place 
our standard of excellence high from the very first, however far off and unattaim ble 
it may appear. After all, it is like climbing a hill to see a fine view. Though it be 
a steep hill, we may get a good deal of pleasure during the ascent; it is not all 
fatigue. Nor is the view, when we at last come within sight of it, the only gratifi¬ 
cation we shall have gained. Surely a walk on a summer’s day, as we go cheerfully 
up the hillside, is worth something; there are many lovely sights and glimpses of 
















HOW TO PLAY THE VIOLIN. 


173 


pretty country on the way, and, above all, we have pleasant companionship. For, 
as we toil up the side of the steep and rugged hill of musical knowledge, it is not 
necessary to wait until we become first-rate performers to spend many a happy 
afternoon or evening of music, to grow keenly interested in our own practising, and 
glean much delight from the playing of others, nor, more than all, to enjoy the 
companionship of the great composers who have written so much for our benefit, 
and whose works no one can thoroughly know or appreciate without learning to 
play them. 

Perhaps of all instruments, the violin is the one to which the performer—and, 
therefore, as a rule, the owner—becomes the most attached. Its great advantages 
over other instruments are :— 

1. Its extreme portability. You need never part from your instrument, need 
entrust it to no one, and, carrying it about with you, can always play on the same 
violin, and are not therefore puzzled or dispirited, like many unfortunate pianists or 
organists, by the complications of a strange or inferior instrument. 

2. The violin greatly resembles the human voice in its tone, and whilst 
possessing a far wider range of compass than the voice, has a similar capability of 
creating a responsive vibration in the hearts of its hearers, together with the same 
power of portamento, that is, of blending or carrying one note into another. 

3. The notes are not ready-made, but have to be created by the player. Every 
player brings out a different quality of tone to that of other players, even when 
using the self-same instrument, and this adds much to the charm and personality of 
the music. 

4. The violin is tuned in perfect and natural tune, and not according to the 
tempered scale , as are of necessity all ordinary keyed instruments (where the notes 
are divided), such as the piano, for example. Its vibrations are, therefore, infinitely 
more pleasing to the ear than the sound of any instrument tuned according to the 
tempered scale. 1 

5. The violin is less monotonous for practising than many other instruments : it 
is more interesting to train the ear, together with the hand, in seeking after beauty and 
quality of tone, and not mere manual dexterity. Also, music written for violin is 
often simple, and so easily learned by heart that much practising may be gone 
through by moderately-advanced students whilst walking about the room, thus 
gaining a pleasant change and rest, though such a method is scarcely to be 
recommended for careless players. 

6. Lastly, and not least, the violin is the leader in an orchestra, as in a quartet; 
and, even among its own family of beautiful stringed instruments, it is more brilliant 
and more capable of variety of tone than the viola or the violoncello. 

It is not very long since the violin was considered an ‘ unladylike ’ instrument, 
ungraceful and impossible for women. I remember, as a child, reading in a story¬ 
book of a little girl who had surreptitiously bought a red fiddle, and who delighted 
her schoolfellows by playing to them in secret. This unfortunate girl was not 
allowed to become a great violinist, but was, on the contrary, reprimanded by the 
schoolmistress, who advised her to choose a more ladylike occupation for the future. 
I have also in former days known girls of whom it was darkly hinted that they 

1 Those who are desirous of further knowledge on the subject of Temperament, can 
consult Sir John Stainer’s Dictionary of Musical Terms, and many other works relating 
to the theory of music. 



174 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


played the violin, as it might be said that they smoked big cigars, or enjoyed the 
sport of rat-catching. But now all this has changed ; there is scarcely a family of 
girls where there is not at least one who plays the fiddle. (I heard lately of a lady 
whose six daughters are ^//violinists!) Classes are held for female violinists, who 
likewise play in the orchestra of the Royal Academy of Music, and in that of the' 
Royal College of Music, and it is no uncommon sight in our streets to see a girl 
carrying her fiddle in its black case. Besides this, in almost every programme of a 
concert we find the name of some lady violinist, who probably plays with fine tone 
and execution, for there are many good artists among us now. 

For this change we are indebted to Madame Norman-Neruda (now Lady Halle). 
She, by uniting with the firmness and vigour of a man’s playing the purity of style 
and intonation of a great artist, as well as her own perfect grace and delicate 
manipulation, has proved to the public at large what a woman can do in this field. 
Madame Neruda’s masterly playing is not to be surpassed by any one, whilst her 
feminine ease and elegance add an unusual charm to violin-playing. 

Even in former years there were some notable exceptions to the universal 
custom which precluded women from such performances, viz. : the sisters Ferny, 
the sisters Milanollo, and others; but these ladies, while achieving much 
reputation, seem to have had but small influence on others. It was reserved to- 
Madame Norman-Neruda to head the great revolution, and to enlist an enormous- 
train of followers. And yet it is difficult to say why a prophet should have been so 
sorely needed, for in the Middle Ages, and later even, women and girls were taught 
to play on viols and similar stringed instruments, held sometimes downwards like 
violoncellos, but also often beneath the chin as we hold our violins, whilst in the old 
Italian pictures, in the works of Fra Angelico, Bellini, Raphael, and many others, 
angels and feminine figures are constantly depicted playing on the violins of the 
period, so that we may assume that, in the eyes of the great painters, such doings 
were by no means unwomanly or ungraceful. Be this as it may, the question need 
no longer arise, the crusade need not be fought anew; Madame Neruda, like a 
musical St. George, has gone forth, violin and bow in hand, to fight the dragon of 
prejudice, or rather, like a female Orpheus, has made captive all the wild beasts 
about her by the sweet sounds she has evoked. Certainly, no one requires nowa¬ 
days to be encouraged to learn the violin, but rather the contrary. Nay, sometimes, 

I am haunted by the fear that all ‘ girls of the period ’ of the next generation will 
scrape unmercifully on their fiddles, with much complacency, perhaps, but with 
little time or tune. There will be no one left who does not play the fiddle, and 
with our modern system of mental cramming , patience and leisure will alike be 
wanting for nec.ssary practising; consequently, but few will play well, and, alas! 
the pianoforte, the harp, the organ, the guitar, the zither, and many other beautiful 
instruments will be altogether laid aside, or left to the sterner sex. 

The best axiom, therefore, for our present times seems to me: Let no o?ie learn 
the violin who has not a district and earnest vocation thereunto ; and let ivhoever is 
determined to learn, leant well and thoroughly. Or, as Mr. Haweis wisely says: 

* Do not take up the violin unless you mean to work hard at it; any other 
instrument may be more safely trifled with.’ 

To those who work, and want to work, I would venture to give a few practical 
hints. 

Use every endeavour to learn from a really good master at the very outset, and 



HOW TO PLAY THE VIOLIN. 


175 


to have as many lessons from him as possible. Later on it will be easier for you to 
practise alone. At first, by working alone (however carefully, even with the help 
of books written for students), many bad habits are engendered that are afterwards 
hard to cure : the violin is held wrongly, or is imperfectly tuned ; the bow is not 
drawn straight, nor is the whole length of the bow used; the wrist of the left hand 
is allowed to support the instrument for the comfort of the player. 

When you have advanced sufficiently to play fluently you can get on tolerably 
alone, though by no means so quickly as under the guidance of a master. But, 
having a naturally correct ear, you can make progress, using a metronome, a 
practical school of violin-playing , and, occasionally, a looking-glass. 

Remember that each hand has its special work to do; each different, yet very 
necessary to supplement the work of the other. Your right hand represents to?ie , 
your left hand time. Your right hand gives expression, your left hand correctness. 
Most people think that the left hand does all the work—that bowing consists of 
sawing the bow up and down across the strings. Yet the right hand has perhaps 
the harder task of the two, as its duties are manifold, pure intonation and careful 
fingering, though important, being the sole occupations of the left. 

It is very difficult to bow well; to hold the bow aright, lightly, and in what 
seems a constrained attitude; to keep the thumb steady, and the four fingers 
straight (not curved outwards), the tips resting firmly on the bow. It. is very 
difficult in slow passages to bring out a full and mellow tone, to give fine expression, 
to draw the bow to its utmost limit (for there must be no tell-tale greyish mark on 
the horsehair near the nut to prove that the whole length has not been in constant 
use), also, to learn the different short, quick styles of bowing, staccato, saltando, etc., 
to mark a crescendo or diminuendo by more or less pressure, to prevent the bow from 
squeaking or slipping on the strings, or from giving a little grunt of disapprobation 
whenever you come to the end of an up or down bow, and proceed to draw it in 
the opposite direction. All these difficulties and technicalities can scarcely be 
overcome without the help and counsel of a master, whose patience and endurance 
must equal the docility of the pupil. But these are the difficulties of all beginners 
—nay, of all students, anti many a moderately good artist has by no means 
conquered them. 

It is absolutely necessary to stand well in a steady, upright, yet graceful attitude. 
Many girls, whose movements are natural and positively pretty before playing, 
undergo an extraordinary transformation the moment they take a violin in hand; 
they contort their features, turn their heads overmuch round, place their elbows and 
wrists at fearful angles, and look as though they were enduring frightful torture. 
Believe me, if from time to time you attempt a few bars before the looking-glass, 
it will by no means feed your vanity, but rather prove a wholesome lesson of 
humility. 

It is very ugly to see a girl place a pad like a large pincushion on her left 
shoulder before playing, or to see her use a piece of wood like a patch of black 
sticking-plaister on the violin itself. All that is required to prevent the violin from 
slipping from under the chin (thus causing premature double chins and all manner 
of wry faces) is, to raise the shoulder very slightly, keeping the elbow well forward 
and a little turned inwards. Hold the violin high, that is to say, quite horizontally, 
and you will soon forget that it was ever disposed to slip away. Habit will become 
second nature; even in changing the positions the attitude that at first was so trying 



176 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


will grow perfectly easy; you must, however, remember that in the lower positions 
the wrist must never be allowed to touch the violin, but your hand must slide 
comfortably up and down, the neck of the violin merely resting between the thumb 
and first finger. 

In all this, I fear, my hints are chiefly negative. It is easier to point out 
probable faults than to give instruction on violin-playing merely by writing. As 
I said before, the practical teaching of a master is absolutely necessary to all 
beginners. 

I will, however, now suppose that you have mastered the first difficulties, that 
you have had a certain number of lessons, and have profited by them sufficiently 
to play little pieces and moderately difficult exercises fairly well. I will suppose that 
you are in the country, unable for some time to come to obtain any further instruc¬ 
tion, yet anxious to ‘ get on.’ 

I should recommend you, above all, to practise regularly—that is, every day at 
stated times, one, two, three hours, as the case may be. Practise regularly, even 
though you are disinclined ; unless you are really ill, a little weariness or fatigue 
soon goes off, and after playing for ten minutes you will probably feel fresher than 
before you began. Play good music, but do not disgust yourself with well-known 
beautiful things by playing them badly. Preserve them rather for by-and-by ; pull 
them out of the drawer every few months, and play them through once or twice ; 
then you will see how much progress you have made.- 

It is a good thing when you are working alone to vary your form of practice on 
alternate days. Let one day be devoted to difficult exercises, and to studying hard 
whatever pieces are to be studied. The following day, go through only a certain 
number of finger exercises, and then read at sight some easy sonatas, with or with¬ 
out pianoforte accompaniment, according to your opportunities. 

In practising pieces that you have learned, but cannot quite conquer, do not 
play them all through, or you will tire of them quickly, but pick out the difficult 
passages, and leave the easy ones to take care of themselves. 

Invent small exercises and new combinations for yourself; try to add thirds and 
sixths to notes in different positions, thus accustoming yourself to play chords; 
learn by heart as much as possible, for two reasons, viz., that you should not always 
have the trouble of preparing a music-stand, candles, &c., also because you will 
never play any piece really well that you do not know by heart, even though you 
play it from the book before your friends. 

Whenever you are studying any new music, play it through once or twice with 
a metronome. Even though no metronome time be marked, the indications of 
allegro , andayite, or adagio , will give you an idea of how to adjust the pendulum. 

It seems to me more difficult to play in time on the violin than on the piano, 
because there is no bass for a foundation. The bass in pianoforte music is almost 
to the eye what a metronome is to the ear, and is a natural guide. In violin music 
you have but one stave; you cannot see what is going on below, and cannot, there¬ 
fore, grasp the true nature of the composition. 

A correct appreciation of time is very requisite. We often hear of amateurs 
who play charmingly, with wonderful genius and expression, but without any sense 
of time. That is very dreadful. Never allow your love of sentiment to put more 
ralle?itando passages into the music than are absolutely marked by the composer or 
dictated by your master. 



HOW TO PLAY THE VIOLIN, 


177 


It is a good thing to play often with pianoforte accompaniment, so as to learn 
the piece as a whole, to grow accustomed to the sound of the piano, and also to 
learn to play in time. But if you have no accompanyist, play the violin part once 
or twice from the book in which both violin and piano parts are written. Or, if 
you are a sufficiently good theoretical musician, look at it well and study it, and 
hear the whole composition, as it were, in your mind. But the best plan of all is to 
play the accompaniment yourself on the piano, for, indeed, every violinist should be 
somewhat of a pianist also. In most conservatoires a slight knowledge of the piano 
is obligatory. The pianoforte is, in our drawing-rooms, the nearest approach to an 
orchestra ; on this instrument alone can you get any orchestral or complete effects; 
and, as a musician, if you do not study it at least a little, you will debar yourself 
from much musical knowledge and advantage. 

In playing before an audience, however limited, however friendly, you will 
probably be nervous, more or less nervous according to your nature. Some people 
unfortunately never quite get over nervousness; but it is best to do our utmost 
from the very first to struggle against it. Do not begin to play without careful 
consideration; see that your bow has a sufficient amount of rosin ; tune your violin 
steadily ; try to avoid being flurried. Practise the art of beginning well, not with a 
scrape nor out of time, so that the accompanyist must needs begin again. 

Wash your hands always before playing (as, indeed, before practising), and 
keep your violin nice and clean, carefully wiped before putting it away within 
its case under a silk handkerchief and flannel coat, the strings always in good 
order. 

If you know that you are to play to an audience, try the strings a little before¬ 
hand. If you put on a new E string, play on it for an hour or two in your own 
room before using it in public. Play enough beforehand to be in good practice, and 
to feel your fingers comfortably supple. Avoid if possible practising at the very 
last the piece you have to perform. Chopin, who usually performed his own piano¬ 
forte compositions, used immediately before his concerts to practise Bach’s fugues. 

As you progress in your art, you cannot fail to grow more and more devoted 
to it; violinists are, as a rule, as enthusiastic and ‘shoppy’ in their talk as the 
keenest sportsmen, racing or hunting men, golfers, &c. To play or even to practise 
will be your greatest delight; you will lament the very shortest separation from your 
dear violin. 

Do you remember the old rhyme ?— 

‘Jacky, come give me thy fiddle, 

If ever thou hope to thrive.’ 

‘Nay, I’ll not give my fiddle 
To any man alive. 

Were I to give my fiddle, 

The folks would think me mad ; 

For many a joyful day 

My fiddle and I have had.’ 

If possible, go often to good concerts, and hear good music, which, like good 
pictures, and indeed all good art, is thoroughly inspiriting. We may be depressed 
by hearing a moderate player, but we become ardently anxious to work as we listen 
to something really great and fine. Such a performance incites our best efforts at 

N 



i 7 8 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


imitation; we feel that it is worth while to work. You will learn a great deal by 
going to the Saturday or Monday Popular Concerts, by hearing and seeing Madame 
Norman-Neruda, the queen, and Herr Joachim, the king of violinists; or Signor 
Piatti, to whom his mighty violin of larger growth is a true slave of the ring, a 
potentate that conquers us but obeys him. You will learn more of bowing, 
phrasing, more of attitude, more of style, tone, or tune, than can be taught by a 
mountain of books or essays. You will learn, in fact, if not how to play the violin, 
at least how the violin should be played. 

I have said nothing about books, violin-methods, or schools , as they are called. 
Any master you learn from will probably prefer one or another. To me, the 
elementary or first part of De Beriot’s violin-school seems the best and easiest for 
beginners. Berthold Tours’ Violin Primer (Novello) is also useful for beginners, 
and very cheap. At the commencement of De Beriot’s and many other schools, 
you will find drawings of mild young gentlemen, in different attitudes, that will show 
you clearly how both the violin and the bow should be held. As you progress, you 
will probably learn to play the exercises of Kayser, Dont, Kreutzer, Dancla, 
Leonard, Ries, and others. As for drawing-room pieces, there are a great many, more 
or less pretty. You must choose these for yourself. Messrs. Stanley Lucas, New 
Bond Street, can provide you with as many as you wish, especially those published 
in cheap German editions. As you gain mastery over your instrument, you will 
love more and more the Mozart and Beethoven sonatas, the old music reprinted in 
the Hohe Schule; by-and-by, trios, and quartets. 

We have no space, unfortunately, for the history of the violin. It is an interesting 
history through these last three centuries, during which time the instrument itself 
has been scarcely altered in any way. ‘What a little thing to make so much 
noise! ’ says the ignorant observer. ‘ What a little thing to have so stirred the 
hearts of men ! ’ responds the philosopher. And, as we hold the treasure in our 
hands, reverently and affectionately contemplating the delicate work of Straduarius, 
Guanerius, or Amati, we wonder through whose hands before ours our fiddle has 
passed, whose magic touch, long since silent and dead, evoked sweet melodies 
resonant from the brown wood that still shines with its fair coating of varnish almost 
as of yore. We seem to hear divine and strange harmonies; we can almost see the 
shades of Corelli, Tartini, Haydn, Spohr, or Paganini, beckoning us to follow their 
example, leading us on in the path of music, and teaching us in truth, by those 
traditions that are our tangible heirlooms, how to play the violin. 


HOW TO PLAY THE ORGAN. 

By Sir John Stainer, M.A., D. Mus., Oxon, late Organist of St. Paul’s 

Cathedral. 

There is something very fascinating in listening to the rich tones of a fine church 
organ, and probably there are but few girls who have not, at some time or other, 
longed to know how to perform on this ‘ king of instruments.’ The idea of being 
able to control some thousands of pipes, varying in length from about half an inch 





















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































i8o 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


to thirty-two feet, rouses a natural ambition, and is a temptation which it is hard to 
withstand. 

The answer to the question, ‘ How am I to play the organ ? ’ might be answered 
in two words, namely, ‘ Do it.’ This is, in fact, the only answer that can be given. 
But a good master, or the careful study of a few hints from one who has had much 
experience in organ-playing, will save the young beginner a vast waste of time, and 
will prevent her from getting into many bad habits which will have to be afterwards 
eradicated at a still greater sacrifice of time and labour. 

The first close peep at the organist’s ‘loft’ (or whatever else that uncomfortable 
little box into which church organists are generally crammed may be called) shows 
an array of ‘ stops ’ which looks alarming. The horrid thought suggests itself that 
they are all absolutely distinct and independent, and, therefore, that a gigantic 
effort of memory will have to be made before their use can be mastered. This is 
not the case. Come with me, if you please, kind reader, into an imaginary organ- 
loft. Take care of those steps, they are very awkward. Just here the passage gets 
very narrow, you must squeeze yourself through it. Mind your head ! Here is 
a sharp corner, cleverly placed in the high road of an ordinary pericranium. Ah, 
you have slipped ! Not hurt, I hope ? All this bother and difficulty of entrance is 
the fault, in many cases, of architects, who are (with but few exceptions) far too 
clever to consult an organ-builder or an organist about the position of the instru¬ 
ment until after the new building has been completed. In some cases one is almost 
tempted, when asking a friend to see an organ, to make use of American slang, and 
say, ‘ May I have the pleasure of engineering you to the organ-loft ? ’ But we will 
suppose that we have safely reached the organ-seat, and find four rows of keys, one 
over the other, a row of foot-keys or pedals below them, sundry little iron levers, 
called composition pedals, and fifty stops, twenty-five on each side. 

You see there are various numerals on the stop-handles—32, 16, 8, 4, 2, &c. 
Let me explain. The ordinary compass of an organ on the manuals is dov 71 to 



and up 
to one 
of these 
notes 


Sve higher. 






Now, if we were to make a 
pipe 8 feet in length, and 
then blow into it, we should 
find it would give this note 


m 


so you can see at once that all the stops marked ‘ 8 ft.’ give just the same notes as 
you would find on a piano—they are, in fact, of the ordinary pitch. The stops 
marked ‘ 8 ft.’ can therefore only differ from each other in quality of tone, not in 
pitch ; draw them one after another, and repeat the same note. You will then hear 
that they are all in wiison. 

The number 8, or ‘ 8 ft.,’ signifies, therefore, that the longest pipe of that stop is 
8 feet in length, and that it is an unison stop. But, if you make a pipe twice as 
long it will give a sound an octave lower. Try at once ; put in all the stops, and 
then draw any one marked ‘ 16 ft.’ You will then hear that it sounds an octave 
lower than you expect. Similarly, if a pipe is made half as long as another it 
sounds an octave higher. Let us try; put in all the stops, and then draw one 
marked ‘ 4 ft.’ It gives sounds an octave above the unison; so too, stops marked 
* 2 ft.’ are one octave above those of 4 ft., and two octaves above the unison. Try. 
Without waiting to explain the few stops that have fractional sums upon them, or 
























HOW TO PLAY THE ORGAN. 


iSr 

such expressions as 1 3 ranks/ &c., we will at once draw practical conclusions from 
what you know. 

You have learnt that you would be playing an octave too low if you were to 
draw ojily 16 ft. stops, an octave too high if only 4 ft. stops, and so on. Hence, you 
must always have some 8 ft. stops as a foundation . In trying the different tones of 
the 8 it. stops you will find that trumpets, cornopeans, horns, cremonas, hautbois, 
and many other stops with cognate titles give a reedy tone, and are, in fact, reed- 
stops ; but that diapasons (stopped or open), clarabellas, flutes (of 8 ft.) give a rich 
full sound. Their tone is not produced by reeds—they are called flue-stops , because 
the long body is empty, like a chimney or flue. 

These rich-toned flue-stops are called foundation stops, and you must find them 
out when you make your first visit to the church organ for practice, unless you are 
prepared to make dismal noises which will frighten the mice inside and the bats 
outside the church. 

You will find some foundation stops on each of the four manuals; but your early 
practice should be on the ‘ great organ/ or second from the bottom, for this is 
almost their universal arrangement:— 

(Top) Solo. Swell. Great. Choir. 

These are practically four organs, built on identical principles, and only differing 
in the objects for which they are intended. The great organ is so named because 
it is the greatest. It generally contains more stops than the others, and has to 
produce all the grand effects. 

The lowest row is called the choir organ, because it contains some delicately- 
voiced foundation-stops for the accompaniment of choir-singers, especially in solos. 
In loud choruses the singers would generally be accompanied on the great organ. 
The choir organ, however, generally contains also one or two sweet stops for solo 
use. 

The swell organ is so-called because the pipes belonging to it are all in a large 
box, with shutters in front opening like common Venetian blinds; when the 
shutters are opened by pressing down the swell pedal the volume of tone seems to 
4 swell * out. 

The solo organ is rarely used for anything but actual solos, hence no attempt is 
made to give to it a due proportion of foundation-stops. It has generally one or 
two of this kind, but chiefly consists of reeds, sometimes on a very high pressure of 
wind, and very loud. 

On examining the stops belonging to the pedal-organ you will again find 
‘foundation ’ (open diapason, bourdon, violin, &c.). Only you will at once see that 
they are altogether one octave lower than the corresponding stops of the manuals : 
thus, the open diapason, &c., will be 16 ft. (instead of 8 ft.), and the principal and 
flutes 8 ft. (instead of 4 ft.), and if there is a ‘ double ’ stop on the pedal-organ it will 
be of 32 ft. (not 16 ft.). The reason why the pedal-organ is altogether an octave 
lower than the manuals is very simple and obvious; it is this, the pedal-organ has a 
similar function to the double-basses and contrafagotti of an orchestra. 

You know, of course, that a double-bass is played an octave lower than the 
violoncello; very similar is the arrangement of pedal stops on the organ—the 
manual diapasons represent the unison pitch, and the 16 ft. pedal-pipes when 
* coupled ’ are practically our * double-basses.’ Double-basses in an orchestra are 





182 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


occasionally used without violoncellos ; so, too, are the soft 16 ft. foundation-stops 
of the pedal-organ used sometimes without having any unison-pitch (8 ft.) coupled to 
them. The pedal-organ is therefore really a fifth organ, similarly constituted to the 
other four, but played by the feet instead of the hands. Draw out for your first 
practice the foundation-stops of the great organ, or the swell-organ, and of the 
pedal-organ ; draw the couplers ‘ swell to great ’ and ‘ great to pedals.’ 

You have now learnt so much that you may take your seat at the keys. This 
is a much more important and difficult process than would be imagined. If you 
are too far back on the seat you will not be able to reach the fourth manual (solo), 
and you will certainly not be able to use the pedals at the extreme ends of the 
pedal-clavier; whereas, if you are too near the edge of the seat, and you reach 
suddenly up to the fourth row, you will inevitably come forward on to your nose, 
and have to seize the desk or stop-handles to avert an accident, and save yourself 
from being charged with pugilistic tendencies on reaching home. 

A test of a proper method of sitting at an organ is this :—Move your hands to 
each row of keys (without, however, touching the keys), and move your feet from 
end to end of the pedals without touching them. If you can do this without 
changing the position of the body you are properly seated. 

You must have a book containing exercises. There are plenty to be had. I 
have myself written an organ Primer which I think is useful to beginners. 1 
There are also excellent instruction books by Archer, Best, Gladstone, Cooper, 
Steggall, and others. 

Begin with your feet. Take some pedal exercises. Do not on any account look 
at your feet when playing. If you once start with this vicious habit you will never 
be able to shake it off, and, what is worse, you will never play the pedals with any 
sense of certainty and dash. You cannot always find an opportunity of peeping at 
your feet when you wish to do so; composers are not so obliging as to construct 
their music with appropriate pauses for the purpose. The best method of learning 
the pedals is that described (on pp. 37-43) in my little Primer; it had been 
traditionally handed down by the best teachers of the instrument, but I do not 
think it had ever before been printed. It consists in finding the position of the 
different keys of the pedals with the toes, just as a blind man does the position of 
the piano-keys with his fingers. You can see him gently touching the corners of 
the black keys so as to know where he is, and thus he is able to pounce upon any 
given note or chord without hesitation. So, too, by gently tapping the sides of the 
raised keys (not black on the pedals) the feet can find for themselves any note 
required, and, what is better still, they become so clever in doing this without 
waiting to be told, that they form a habit of inslinctively discovering their own 
whereabouts. Be careful not to use the weight of the leg when pedalling; all force 
should be got from the swinging of the foot on a loose ankle-joint. Unless this 
important fact is understood rapid pedalling can never be attained. 

It will be found that the hands should not be held in quite so horizontal a 
position as in pianoforte-playing. The touch of an organ is rather deeper than that 
of a piano; the back of the hand must therefore be slightly raised. It is also 
absolutely necessary that one key should be allowed to return to its level before the 
next is put down, not only in all scale-passages, but in all successions of chords. 

1 It is a valuable and cheap book, published by Novello.— Editor. 






HOW TO PLAY THE ORGAN . 


183 


The neglect of this causes that unpleasant * smeary ’ effect which is unfortunately 
so commonly heard. The reason why this is necessary is to be found in the fact 
that unless one pallet closes the entrance of air before another pallet begins to admit 
air the two sounds will be overlapping, or, in other words, both pipes will be 
speaking at the same time. It often appears as if a good organist were raising the 
tips of his fingers unnecessarily high, but his object in so raising them will now be 
quite understood. 

Whether you are playing on loud stops or on soft stops, the fingers should 
always press the keys down with a firm, bright touch. In this respect the organ- 
touch differs entirely from that of the piano; for whereas on the latter the most 
delicate shades of expression are obtained by the variation of the force of touch, on 
the former no good effect is produced by putting the keys down gently, but quite 
the reverse. 

One of the chief objects of practising exercises is to obtain perfect independence 
of action between the two hands and between the hands and feet. Beginners 
always find their left hands trying to move at the same time and in the same 
direction as their feet. It requires considerable practice to overcome this, but it 
must be done. 

On the organ, musical expression is obtained in many ways very different from 
the method used on the piano. The art of phrasing is of great importance on the 
piano, but it is of even greater importance on the organ; and it may be said 
generally that broad effects can be more easily produced on the organ than more 
subtle details. You must have a knowledge of the ‘ unity ’ in the design of a fine 
work, and sketch out in your mind the best means of making each portion not only 
interesting in itself but properly contrasted to those surrounding it, and also part of 
a dignified and grand whole. 

If you practise in earnest you may test your progress by asking yourself, from 
time to time, the following questions :— 

(1) Is my touch quite firm and bright ? 

(2) Are all the parts, especially the inner parts, of the music quite clear and 
well defined ? 

(3) Are my hands independent of each other, and is each hand separately quite 
independent of my feet ? 

(4) Am I playing with expression ? 

(5) Are my combinations of stops pleasing and judiciously selected ? and do I 
vary them sufficiently ? 

(6) Am I in the habit of spoiling the time and rhythm of the music when 
altering my combination of stops ? 

In conclusion, do not play the organ as if it were your master, and you had to 
consult its wishes at every turn. Remember that the three things required to form 
a good organist are these—skill in fingers and feet, good taste and feeling in the 
heart, sound judgment in the head. 




1 84 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


THE AMATEUR CHURCH ORGANIST. 

By the Hon. Victoria Grosvenor. 

We believe that young people generally have a desire to be useful. Sometimes not 
an actually formulated desire, but a vague intention which they mean some day shall 
have a practical issue, when and how they do not quite know, or in what way. It 
is proposed in this article to point out one means of eminent usefulness— i.e. } that of 
amateur organ playing in our churches. It is scarcely necessary to show what a 
large field of good useful work is open to amateurs in this direction. We all know 
that in many country districts, and also in the poorer parts of large towns, 
churches are often utterly unable to pay for the services of a professional 
player; while there is nothing so calculated to lift up the heart of the congregations 
such as these are likely to obtain, as good music. Would it not therefore be a 
pleasant duty for any one gifted with musical talent and leisure to qualify in the best 
manner possible for this ennobling and helpful occupation ? 

The intending organ-player must ascertain that he or she has a gift for music, 
and this need not be of the highest order, as even a small portion of the gift can be 
improved with care, and fostered into usefulness. A first-rate ear can be a snare to 
those who trust to it too much—although it is undoubtedly the best of servants, if 
kept in its proper sphere of work. A very ordinary measure of talent, supplemented 
by calm and good sense, clear power of thought, and determined perseverance, will 
be a good foundation to start with. Good sense and attention have more to do with 
the good music of ordinary persons (as opposed, we mean, to remarkably clever 
ones) than people are apt to think. It was said of Mendelssohn that music was the 
accident of his being : and there are many of whom the same could be said, with this 
meaning— i.e. } that the powers which make them succeed in music would enable 
them to succeed in other things great, if attempted. 

We will therefore suppose the case of a young lady possessing a moderate gift of 
music desiring to improve it and herself, and to take up organ playing with a view 
to real usefulness. She should first find out whether her playing on the piano is 
perfectly correct, taking the easiest possible music to exercise herself upon, and 
trying whether her musical ear is competent to be her teacher in the matter of 
correctness. If neither steady attention nor ear enable her to discover mistakes, 
she had better consider that music is not the talent God has given her to use to His 
glory. A musical ear may, however, be much improved by its possessor. With 
even the smallest of voices she should join a choir or madrigal society, and learn to 
sing at sight. She should, when listening to a musical performance, try to guess its 
key. She should endeavour to know, without seeing, the sound and name of single 
notes on the piano, practising herself with her eyes shut. It is good practice, also, 
to take an easy chant or hymn tune, hitherto unknown, and try to get some idea of 
its melody and harmony without playing it. When all this is done, one of the most 
important tasks remains : that of mastering time in all its branches. Slovenliness 
in this particular is fatal to all music, above all that for the organ, which is meant to 
guide and control. A feeling for rhythm and a quick-sighted accurate knowledge 
of time may be much improved by playing with others, either duets on the piano 
or accompaniments to voice or instrument. The player should compel herself to 






THE AMATEUR CHURCH ORGANIST. 


185 

account for the time reason of every passage slowly, until she is able to do so with 
rapidity and precision at sight. At this point it may be well to ^egin lessons on the 
organ, taking great pains to become familiar with the technical part of the instrument, 
the names of stops and meaning of these names, mechanism and its use. Then 
will come the careful practice of pedals, which are at first so absolutely bewildering 
that amateurs are filled with despair at the apparent impossibilities they are asked 
to face with hope. 

Into the teacher’s work it is not our province to go ; but we would ask the learner 
to be armed with courage and perseverance, and to practise patiently. Success is 
more than likely. 

We now proceed with advice to one possessed of some knowledge of organ¬ 
playing and some acquaintance with its technical capabilities. First, we should say 
—Play on all available instruments, as no two are alike, and the stops are called by 
many different names, which must be identified quickly as emergencies arise. Then 
acquire a knowledge of harmony, specially useful in accompanying church music 
with dignity, and enabling the player to fill in the chords which the vocal score (or 
voice parts) have left thin and ineffective. Volumes might be written on 
accompaniments; but on this subject we would advise amateurs to consult heart, 
head, and common sense, and we would recommend them to read Dr. Bridge’s 
Organ Accompanime?it , one of Novello’s music primers, which will open out to 
them many possibilities, on the use of which they must decide for themselves 
according to their technical ability and the effect they aim at. It may be they can 
only try to pull a few weak voices through the singing allotted to them—in which 
case a strong, steady accompaniment of the simplest description is the best. 

One word on voluntaries. These should be chosen with great care and the 
deepest respect for the church and the instrument, and kept well within the 
powers of the player. Amateurs do not as a rule obtain much control of their 
nerves, and the greatest help in the world is given by the knowledge that there is 
not a ‘ difficult bit ’ coming. Voluntary books are not quite to be trusted, as 
their selection often contains operatic music very unfit for organ or church; 
but they generally contain some pieces of a sacred and dignified character, which 
may be useful. It is also dangerous for the inexperienced to plunge into easy 
arrangements of unknown music, taking perhaps wrong views of the time, and 
sometimes making the more experienced listener smile, if nothing worse, at the 
curious rendering of some well-known air, jumbled up with its obbligato accompani¬ 
ment, the existence of which was entirely unknown to the poor player. Every 
organist should possess a metronome, and carefully ascertain with it the correct time 
* of any music intended for use in public. 

Finally, if every small action is to be done to the glory of God, how much more 
the playing in His church ! Let none take this noble work in hand without a 
desire to give, in its degree, the best work that can be given in absolute self- 
renunciation, humility, and reverence. 




THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


186 


THE AMATEUR CHOIR TEACHER. 

By the Hon. Victoria Grosvenor. 

We propose now to take up the subject of training choirs for leading God’s 
praise in His church, on the understanding that the future teacher has attended 
carefully to her own musical improvement. Personal fitness for this branch of 
instruction is most necessary, as if once the taught discover they know anything of 
which the teacher has not more perfect knowledge, that teacher’s task will be a 
hard one. Therefore there should be familiar acquaintance with every 
description of musical notation. Alto and tenor clefs should be well understood, 
to be clearly explained when met with. On this subject we should like to 
recommend the careful study of A Short Treatise on the Stave ; by the late Dr. 
John Hullah, published by Parker, where the whole matter is admirably set forth 
and illustrated on its own technical grounds. The often-heard, but somewhat slip¬ 
shod explanation, ‘ Oh! you must read a note higher or a note lower,’ which leaves 
the puzzled learner very much where he was before, will thus be avoided. Even 
supposing the alto and tenor clefs are never met with, the study will repay the 
intending teacher by opening her mind and giving clearness to her musical ideas. 

It will be seen, by what has been said, that we consider our amateur teacher’s 
first qualification should be thorough knowledge of her subject. The second should 
decidedly be untiring patience, which will bear with stupidity, carelessness, want of 
zeal, deficient ear, bad pronunciation, and all the thousand and one difficulties which 
beset choirs. These consist generally of volunteers who join with but little idea of 
giving of their best to God, and an impatient teacher would soon find herself 
in the lonely position of the last player in Haydn’s ‘ Good-bye ’ symphony. 

We would next place hopefulness in the teacher’s catalogue of moral furniture. 
The learners will soon find out if they are being taught without hope of their 
improvement; listless work will be the result, and the shy, anxious members will 
give it up in despair. The power of encouraging effort, of detecting and 
commending the slightest sign of improvement, of persuading the members 
mentioned above that the work is within their grasp, if persevered in, is most 
necessary, and a kindly, sunny disposition ever ready to look at the brightest side 
is simply invaluable. 

Next we should place regularity and perseverance. Without these the teacher 
can do nothing. If she works in the best spirit she will feel that, like David, she 
cannot offer to God of that which doth cost her nothing, and she will be ready to 
forego little pleasures in order that the practice may not be interfered with, or the 
evening of the week changed. This last is a most important point; as the lives of 
working people, from whose ranks most members of choirs are recruited, do not 
adapt themselves to change, they seldom receive in its integrity a hasty message 
sent round to put off, and of all things, a walk for nothing after a day’s work is to 
be avoided. Of course rules must be elastic, and not unbending as iron, but 
experience shows that the above advice is really needful. Regularity in the 
teacher is sure to be imitated by the learners, and steady work must tell in 
the end. 

The next point should be firmness tempered with wisdom. The teacher must 






THE AMATEUR CHOIR TEACHER. 


1 8 7 


be supreme, or no choir will prosper. Infallible she cannot be while here below ; 
but even so one will must rule, or anarchy will be the result. Twenty (or whatever 
number may compose the choir) views of doing the same thing cannot conduce to 
harmony, moral or musical, and this fact must be impressed. At the same time 
there are local prejudices and fancies in most places, which a clever, tactful 
teacher will soon discover and understand, so as to know when she had better 
give way. 

Enough has been said to show that we do not consider the task of teaching a 
choir an easy one, nor will it always repay with success those who have given it 
much trouble. The teacher must sometimes find herself grappling with the effort 
of making the proverbial ‘ sow’s ear into a silk purse.’ She has impossible materials 
to weld, such as, e.g., excellent, but roaring basses, trebles possessing no high notes, 
tenors out of tune, and leaning to amalgamation with treble, altos none ! What is 
she to do ? Courage ! Go on, do your best, teach, exhort, scold, coax, never lose 
hope, and if you get no credit, try not to mind. Man does not know, but God 
does, what work you do for His sake; only be sure that you are so doing it. If the 
music be really the unattainable ‘ silk purse,’ how much may be done in teaching 
the inharmonious little choir to phrase well, to throw out by judicious accent the 
sense of canticle and hymn, and so lead the congregation to think of the lesson 
it contains! How much zeal may be kindled by the teacher’s energy! How 
speedily the broad dialect peculiar to the place will disappear before a little good- 
natured chaff and imitation from one in whose lips it is seen, even by its votaries, 
to be ridiculous ! How the ill-used letter ‘ H ’ may be helped and restored with the 
advice of breathing over it. 

The reader will not, perhaps, think us very encouraging; but it is obvious that 
where excellent voices are to be had, forming them into a choir only needs 
intelligence and a firm hand from one who is equal in knowledge to the task 
undertaken. We have, therefore, tried to suit our advice to the needs of the many, 
who must perforce work under difficulty, being obliged to take, not the materials 
they desire to have, but only the heterogeneous ones at hand. 

A few practical suggestions and we have done ! Do not attempt too much in 
public. Congregations are very critical. One piece of music badly done will be 
more noticed than several faultless ones. On the other hand, keep on learning 
some music above the power of the choir, for improvement and interest. In cold 
weather, when possible, choose music which does not try the voices too much by 
giving them sustained high notes to sing. 

Lastly, work according to the views of the vicar of the parish, who is 
responsible for everything in it; try to carry out in the best possible manner 
whatever form of musical worship he desires to have in his parish church. You 
may not be of the same opinion, but you will gain nothing but good by putting 
your own views in the background, and thus learning to obey as well as to teach. 
And may we not hope that the loving Father will acknowledge such work, even if 
imperfect in its results, as done by His child to His glory ? 




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HOW TO PLAY THE HARMONIUM. 


189 




HOW TO PLAY THE HARMONIUM. 

By King Hall. 

I dare say you, my kind reader, will be able to recall without much difficulty the 
disappointment and perhaps disgust with which you have risen from the 
harmonium after attempting to perform some simple piece of music for the first 
time. The instrument would not do what was required of it; the bellows were so 
horridly refractory; and the stops were apparently arranged in such an arbitrary 
and irregular fashion that the result was the reverse of satisfactory; and you were 
compelled at last to admit that your efforts were not crowned with the success your 
anticipations had led you to expect. 

Now this is the experience of every one who sits down to the harmonium for the 
first time. 

With the pianoforte everything is so simple; and you feel that in the key-board 
itself are concentrated all the difficulties of the instrument. 

Even in the organ, which is, of course, considerably more complicated in 
construction, the difficulties present themselves in a straightforward sort of way, 
and you know pretty well before beginning to play what you have to encounter. 
There are the key-boards, all precisely alike, and the pedals, which are very easy 
to understand. Then there are the stops, nicely and systematically arranged in 
rows; and lastly there is a grand array of pipes of all sizes and shapes. You know 
that these pipes are the sound-producers, that they are mysteriously connected with 
the keys, and that if you draw out a stop, and press down a key, one at least 
amongst this assemblage of ‘ whistles ’ will be sure to speak, and speak properly. 
You do not even think of the blowing. Why should you ? Is there not some one 
there to relieve you of any anxiety upon this score—a man, or perhaps a boy, hidden 
away in some dark corner, as if doing penance for sins innumerable ? 

But the harmonium is so different from all this. The stops are so peculiarly 
arranged—the sound-producing portion of the instrument, and, indeed, all the 
mechanism is so carefully concealed from view; and last, but certainly not least, 
the blowing exercises such a marvellous influence upon the strength, and even the 
quality of the sound, that no wonder you should be astonished and annoyed at the 
feeble and perhaps ludicrous results of your first performance. You are, indeed, 
almost inclined to be indignant at your efforts being frustrated by an instrument so 
plain and insignificant in appearance. 

Now do not let your disappointment prevent you from trying again. It 
is not nearly so difficult to play the harmonium as you think ; and if you 
will kindly give me your attention for a few minutes, I shall probably be able to 
simplify a few of the things which now discourage you, although it is not possible 
in this chapter to convey more than a few hints as to the general management of 
the instrument. 

The principal difficulties which beset the learner are the proper manipulation 
of the draw stops and the steady supply of wind. 

Having seated yourself, suppose you begin by playing a scale. Bu^ stop ! Your 
chair is much too low. With wrists hanging down below the key-board, feet placed 




THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


190 


flat upon the treadles, and your knees almost up to your chin, you cannot play with 
any degree of comfort to yourself or pleasure to your hearers. Your chair, too, is 
for ever sliding away from the instrument, and, in consequence, you experience 
the annoyance of being obliged to remove your hands from the keys every few 
minutes in order to shift your seat back to its original position. Or perhaps, 
instead of taking your hands from the keys, you contrive, by a series of spasmodic 
jerks, to wriggle yourself a little nearer, and are then dismayed to find that you are 
not in the centre of the key-board, but near one end, and sitting sideways instead of 
facing the instrument. At last you are compelled to take your hands from the keys, 
and possibly, to rise from the chair, in order to place yourself once again in the 
proper position. Now all this is the consequence of sitting too low; and if a 
harmonium chair cannot be conveniently procured, you must use books or a 
hassock for the purpose of raising your seat to the necessary height. The under 
part of the feet should be as nearly as possible in a horizontal position, and the toes 
alone placed upon the treadles. Attention to this rule will insure a proper position 
at the instrument. 

Now commence playing again, not forgetting, however, that it is necessary to 
draw out a stop, otherwise there will be no sound. Draw, on the left-hand side, 
the top bearing the figure 1, and play the scale of C from the lowest note upwards. 
On reaching 



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V -——L 


tj 


the scale suddenly breaks off, and you will find it impossible to proceed further 
unless the stop No. 1 on the right hand is drawn also. You now begin to perceive 
that the stops are divided into lass and treble, those of the bass extending from 




fj 


and those 
of the 
treble from 




J 

T 


A 



I? 

\ 


V 

) 


Tj 



2>ve 





and you also conclude, rightly, that as 1-1 are continuations of each other, so also 
are 2-2, 3-3, and 4-4. But beyond 4 you cannot depend upon this continuation. 
No. 5 in the bass, for instance, is not usually carried through by No. 5 in the 
treble ; indeed, you will find an awkward break or gap between the notes 




of the keyboard, which will require some little 
ingenuity to bridge over. 

Let us now examine the pitches of the stops. 
Draw No. 1 on the left hand, and put down 
the middle C. 



You will find that this note is precisely the same pitch as the corresponding note 
on the pianoforte. Now draw out No. 2 and push in No. 1 ; the sound 
immediately drops down to the octave below. Draw No. 3 and push in No. 2 ; 
the sound rises two octaves. Change No. 3 for No. 4, and the sound produced 
will be an octave lower than the last, in other words, identical in pitch with No. 1. 

In speaking of the pitches of stops it is customary to apply the technical 






























































HOW TO PLAY THE HARMONIUM. 


191 


expressions universally adopted by organ-builders. These expressions refer to the 
length of a pipe necessary to produce a certain sound, this sound being identical or 
in unison with the note C 




of the pianoforte. An organ pipe must be eight feet long to produce this sound, 
four feet long for the octave above, or sixteen feet long for the octave below. 
Hence the stops Nos. 1 and 4, which you know are in unison with the pianoforte, 
are called eight-feet stops, No. 2 is therefore a sixteen-feet stop, and No. 4 a four- 
feet stop. 

In playing you must remember that the principal or standard stops are those of 
eight feet; and you will, therefore, never be wrong in using these stops. If, 
however, you wish to use a sixteen-feet stop, either alone or in conjunction with 
one of eight feet, you will usually find it necessary to transpose the music an octave 
higher. 

As no two harmoniums are alike in the quality of their tone, it is absolutely 
impossible to give you much information upon this point. You will find, however, 
that the stops are divided into two distinct classes :—those of a flutey tone, like 
Nos. 1 and 2, and those of a reedy tone, like Nos. 3 and 4. Your own taste and 
good judgment will tell you which are the most suitable stops for the music you 
wish to play. 

In the study of blowing you will of course need a book of exercises, &c. There 
are not many instruction books, but there are sufficient for you to choose from. 

It is absolutely necessary that you should practise the feet separately at first, and 
not attempt to use them together until you can blow steadily with one foot. 

Practise with one note, then with two notes, afterwards with three, and so on, 
thus increasing the number of notes and consequently the difficulty of blowing 
steadily. 

Use the stops 1-1 to begin with, and gradually add the others in this order: 4-4, 
3-3, and lastly 2-2. 

Let your principal study be confined to long sustained notes. Sustain them 
softly at first, then a little louder, and so on. Afterwards practise increasing and 
diminishing the sound; but be careful not to jerk the bellows. When using both 
feet together, one treadle should commence its descent a trifle before the other has 
finished, and do not let there be the slightest break in the continuity of the sound. 

The great beauty, and indeed the life, of the harmonium is its power of 
expression; and, except in pieces requiring uniform loudness throughout, you 
should make it the rule always to use the Expression stop. You must conquer the 
difficulties of this stop, otherwise your playing will be dismally monotonous and 
utterly devoid of the faintest approach to expression. Do not be disheartened, 
dear reader, a little perseverance is all that is necessary to enable you to overcome 
the difficulties which perhaps at first appear almost insurmountable. 











192 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


HOW TO PLAY THE HARP. 

By John Thomas, Harpist to Her Majesty the Queen, and Professor of the 

Harp at the Royal Academy of Music. 

Considering the great antiquity 
of the harp, its elegance of form 
and sympathetic quality of tone, 
and its having been for ages the 
inseparable companion of prophet, 
king, bard, and minstrel, it is not 
surprising that a considerable 
amount of romance should still 
cling to the instrument, and that 
it should continue to be extensively 
studied by those possessed of a 
musical and poetical temperament. 

Some, on the other hand, are 
deterred from attempting the study 
of the harp, under the impression 
that it is a difficult instrument; 
but I am prepared to show that 
there is no foundation for such an 
impression. 

In the first place, to be able to 
tune the harp should be a very pro¬ 
per test as to the musical organiza¬ 
tion of the student; for I maintain 
that, for the sake of others, as well as 
themselves, none should be advised 
to study anymusical instrument who 
cannot imitate a given note in tune. 
This applies more particularly to 
the harp, the violin, and every 
other instrument upon which the note has to be produced by the student. The 
ear having been satisfactorily tested, there can be no further difficulty with regard 
to the tuning of the harp. 

What renders the playing of the harp much easier of acquirement than other 
instruments—even the pianoforte included—is the fact that every scale, in whatever 
key it is played, is fingered exactly alike ; and this also applies to every kind of 
passage when transposed from one key to another. Then, again, it is a 
comparatively easy instrument, on account of the stretch of the octave being so 
small; indeed, a tenth may be played on the harp with as much ease as an octave 
on the pianoforte, which will account for those beautiful and unique effects which 
can be produced upon the harp by means of the extended combination of chords. 
Every note upon the harp can be made either flat, natural, or sharp, by means 

















193 


4 * 


HOW TO PLAY THE HARP . 


of the pedals ; so that many striking enharmonic effects are obtained by the flats of 
some notes and the synonymous sharps of others. This does not in any way 
increase the difficulty of fingering; as every note is struck alike, whether flat, 
natural, or sharp. 

The difficulty of the use of the pedals has also been much overrated; for the 
process of modulation, through their instrumentality, is most simple. There are seven 
pedals, each representing its particular note of the scale ; and it requires very little 
knowledge of the theory of music to understand that if, for example, we wish to 
modulate from the key of C major into that of G major, F will require to be made 
sharp; and we have only to fix the pedal which affects that note, when the F in 
each octave upon the instrument is made sharp simultaneously. The case is 
similar in every other kind of modulation, and only necessitates on the part of the 
performer that moderate amount of musical knowledge which every one should 
possess who wishes to attain proficiency upon any instrument. 

With regard to the position of the hands upon the strings, if a student would 
consult a competent teacher at the commencement, it might be the means of 
preventing her from acquiring such a defective position as, within the range of my 
own experience, has often greatly militated against the execution of difficult 
passages in the case of advanced pupils. But as there are many who have no 
means of consulting a master, the following hints may be of service. 

In the first place, the harp should be so held as to lean gently on the right 
shoulder and between each knee, the feet placed near the pedals, so that they may 
be pressed with facility when required. 

In playing the pianoforte the thumb is kept under the hand ; in playing the 
harp, on the contrary, the thumb is held above the hand, acting as a kind of pivot, 
to facilitate the passing of the hand to and fro. It is frequently the case that the 
student has acquired the habit of keeping the thumb down, almost on a level with 
the fingers, thereby necessitating the taking of the hand entirely off the strings for 
every group of four notes in playing a scale, a process which renders rapidity and 
certainty of execution impossible. The strings should be of such a thickness as to 
gently resist the touch; and the fingers should be slightly curved inwardly from the 
first joint, in order that the nails may never come in contact with the strings. 
Keep the body in an upright, easy attitude, as if the harp were not resting upon 
the shoulder. Play upon the centre of the strings, and avoid holding out the 
elbows. 

At the commencement, the practice of scales is indispensable; indeed, they 
should always be studied, inasmuch as they are the secret of good playing on every 
instrument 

Make yourself acquainted with Bochsa’s Introductory Exercises (books i and 2), 
followed by his Forty Studies (books 1 and 2), which will lay the foundation 
of good playing, by teaching you how to execute every kind of passage, harmonics, 
sons-etouff'es, &c. 

Do not play your chords too loud, for the harp is a delicate instrument, and 
• requires to be handled accordingly. 

Also be careful not to arpeggio your chords too much, which is a fault very 
common among harpists, as if music were not the same upon the harp as upon any 
other instrument. 

Should the preceding directions be faithfully followed, the study of the harp will 

o 



1 


♦** 


i 9 4 THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 

be a most pleasant and healthful exercise to the student, as well as the means of 
attaining proficiency upon the most fascinating instrument ever invented. 

* Iaith enaid ar ei thannau.’ 

The language of the soul upon her strings. 


HOW TO PLAY THE GUITAR. 

By Madame Sidney Pratten, Teacher to Her Royal Highness 

the Princess Louise. 

The guitar is a charming and graceful instrument, capable of much execution, 
intense pathos, and a variety of effects peculiarly its own, and is admirably adapted 
for an accompaniment to the voice. 

An eminent composer, in eulogising the merits of the guitar, says, with much 
truth, that although it has not the power of some large instruments, it has its revenge 
in its delicate sweetness and sympathetic tones. 

The guitar now in use is called the Spanish guitar, with six strings, it having 
superseded the old English guitar, a very inferior kind, of different shape and con¬ 
struction. 

There is a very interesting article by Mr. Hipkins on the guitar, and guitars 
ancient and modern, in the new edition of Dictionary of Music and Musicians , 
edited by Geo. Grove, D.C.L. I will therefore not enlarge on the subject. 

The Spanish guitar was introduced into England about sixty or seventy years 
ago, as an artistic instrument, by a Spaniard, Ferdinand Sor, who had written some 
of the most exquisite and suitable pieces. 

It is recorded, in Hogarth’s History of the Philharmonic Society , that Ferdinand 
Sor played a solo on the guitar at one of their concerts when they were held at the 
Argyll Rooms, Regent Street. 

About the same time there was another celebrated player and composer, an 
Italian, Mauro Giulni, who resided in Vienna; and no doubt he brought- the guitar 
into use in Germany. 

He was a very prolific writer, and his numerous compositions (some hundreds), 
mostly very difficult, were published in Paris, London, and Vienna. He also wrote 
three concertos, with orchestral accompaniments ; the third concerto was esteemed 
so good that it was arranged for the pianoforte by Hummel. 

The most popular writers for the guitar abroad were the above named, and 
Carulli, Kreutzer Kuffner, and Legnani; and in London, Sola, Nuske, and Neuland. 
The last-named wrote some lovely duets for guitar and pianoforte, published by 
Chappell. The plates, I understand, are destroyed, but now that playing upon the 
guitar is becoming more general again, it is to be hoped that they may be reprinted. 

Last, but not least, I must mention the modern genius of the guitar, Leonard 
Schulz ; his original compositions are gems. He died in i860. There were many 
fine players on the guitar who resided in London, but they have all passed away; 
the last remaining one was Guilio Regondi, who died a few years ago, after a 
lingering illness. He was also the first one who played the concertina, which he 
did to perfection. His compositions for the guitar and concertina are very difficult. 

Guitars are made abroad; those made in Spain, the Spanish model, are larger 




HOW TO PLAY THE GUITAR. 


195 


and thicker than those made in France and Germany. The guitar shown in the 
illustration is of French make, as that particular shape is more adapted for a lady 
than the larger ones. Of 
the six open strings three 
are silver and three gut. 

The metal lines across 
the finger-boards (the front 
of the neck) are called 
frets; each produces an 
interval of a semi-tone by 
pressing the fingers of the 
left hand on any of the 
strings in rotation. 

To hold the guitar 
properly is very essential 
to enable you to play with 
ease. It must be so held 
that both hands are free 
to move about without 
the instrument changing 
its position. It is more 
comfortable to sit on a 
low chair than on one 
too high. 

Rest the guitar on the 
left knee, raising the foot 
sufficiently high on a foot¬ 
stool, or otherwise, so that 
the instrument rests be¬ 
tween the chest and the 
knee without stooping. 

Place the right arm 
easily on the guitar ; put 
down the little finger on 
the sounding-board; strike 
the three silver strings with 
the thumb, the three gut 
strings with the first, 
second, and third fingers, 
raising the wrist sufficiently high to enable the three fingers to strike the three strings 
under the thumb. In striking a chord the thumb should fall on the first finger, 
resting between the first and second joints, with the knuckles slightly raised. 

The great thing to avoid on the guitar is twanging and jarring. 

Twanging is the result of pulling up the strings with the right-hand fingers, 
which causes them to vibrate up and down, and to jingle against the frets, but if 
struck gently sideways that is avoided. 

Jarring the strings is caused by the left hand not pressing the fingers sufficiently 
tight near the frets. 



o 2 



















































































































































































































196 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


It is difficult to explain how the left hand should be held, because different 
chords very often require a different movement of the fingers, wrist, and position of 
the arm. 

Sometimes the arm or elbow is held in, and the left hand grasping the neck of 
the guitar, perhaps the next chord may require the elbow to move out and to hollow 
the hand, the third movement may require the wrist to be held out, and so on. 

A group of notes, which may appear almost impossible to take in one position 
of the hand, becomes quite simple by another movement, so that here the expe¬ 
rienced teacher is required. The natural way to hold the hand is to grasp the neck 
of the guitar between the thumb and first finger, holding out the other fingers and 
the arm slightly away from the body. Hold the wrist back. Then place your first, 
second, and third fingers in rotation on the first, second, and third frets of the small 
gut string, having placed your fingers obliquely, then let your thumb be on the 
opposite side, facing the second finger. 

By putting down the fingers obliquely, the distances are more easily reached 
than by placing them straight. 

The six open strings are tuned to the following notes of the pianoforte :— 



The student will observe that the strings of the guitar are tuned to the notes of 
the piano in the bass clef, but that the guitar notes are written in the treble clef an 
octave higher. 

It will be seen that the guitar notes are written an octave higher than they 
sound, or, vice ve?'sa, the guitar sounds an octave lower than the notation. Although 
the guitar sounds the deep notes of the bass clef, to simplify it for writing, it is 
written an octave higher and put in the treble clef. 

The following shows the compass of the guitar :— „ * B C ^ ™ F G a 



Silver. 



0 0 

Gut. Gut. 


Silver. 
































































































HOW TO PLAY THE CONCERTINA. 


197 


In the foregoing is shown only one note of each kind, but as each string pro¬ 
duces seventeen semi-tones, some of these notes are repeated on the different strings 
in various positions, which can be referred to in the author’s book, where also you will 
find the correct way to put on the strings, and to know if they are true or false , and 
an explanation of the following effects, which are produced on the guitar the same as 
on other stringed instruments having a finger-board—viz., the slur,glisse, vibrato and 
harmonics , by the left hand , and others, peculiarly its own, with the right hand—the 
dash, drum, twirl, nails, arpeggio, and etouffe. 

That which constitutes the great charm of the guitar is its sympathetic tones; 
the gradations of tone are produced by striking the strings, moving the hand higher 
up towards the finger-board for soft tones, and nearer to the bridge for loud and 
crisp quality of tone. 

Do not try to play as loud, but as sweetly, as you can; then you have the louder 
tone in reserve for light and shade. 

To cultivate a good pure tone, practise very slowly and distinctly, and in a quiet 
room—no talking, dogs barking, or birds singing—otherwise you cannot listen to 
your performance or correct faults. 

The guitar being so portable, it can be taken into any room or out into the 
garden, and can be practised without disturbing others, and when sweetly played 
(however simple the song or piece) it gives great pleasure to yourself and others. 


HOW TO PLAY THE CONCERTINA. 


By Richard Blagrove. 


The concertina was invented by the late Sir Charles Wheatstone about the year 
1830. It is a treble instrument, and the compass when first brought out was about 
three octaves from— 



Cr 


but now concertinas 
are manufactured with 
a compass of four 
octaves 



with a complete chromatic scale. 

The disposition of the notes is different from any other instrument. All those 
in spaces are on the right-hand side, and those on lines on the left. There are 
four rows of keys on either side. The two middle rows are the natural notes, and 
the two outer rows sharps and flats. 

One great charm of the concertina is the power it possesses of sustaining the 
sound and also of increasing or diminishing and otherwise modulating the tone, 
thereby giving great beauty to the whole performance. It is capable of producing 
many beautiful tones, harmonies, and effects that are peculiar to it, besides possessing 
the quality of performing all music that has been written for flute and oboe, and with 



















198 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


very few exceptions, all violin music, being equally adapted to the most expressive 
passages and rapid execution. 

The arrangement of the keys enables performers to play extended harmonies 
without having to stretch the hand. Passages in thirds are quite easy on the 
concertina, and those in sixths, eighths, and tenths are, with a moderate amount of 
practice, comparatively easy. 

The tones of the concertina blend very effectively with other instruments, and 
although it has not yet been adopted in orchestras, it is (considering how long it 
takes to establish a new instrument) wonderful how many important works have 
been written for the concertina. Concertos, quintettes, quartettes, trios, sonatas, 

and smaller pieces have been written 
by Molique, Silas, Macfarren, Penedict, 
Regondi, &c., &c., besides numerous 
arrangements from operas. 

During the last few years instru¬ 
ments have been made that rarely re¬ 
quire tuning. This is a great boon to 
those who play the concertina. Ama¬ 
teurs sometimes complain that pianos 
are seldom to be found the same pitch 
as the concertina. That is easily ob¬ 
viated by having some tuning-forks 
the required pitch, and requesting the 
luners to keep the pianos to it, instead 
of letting them gradually get flatter and 
flatter, as is usually the case. This 
would also be the means of keeping the 
pianos in better order. 

Concertinas are usually tuned to 
Broadwood’s medium pitch, which is 
not by any means high. 

It is better to commence learning 
the concertina sitting down, even if after 
a time the standing attitude should be 
preferred. The left side of the instru¬ 
ment should rest on the knee, drawing 
and pressing the bellows with the right 
hand only. To assist those who prefer a standing position, a ribbon is suspended 
from the instrument round the neck of the performer. It is very desirable not to 
depend too much on the little finger rests fixed to the side of the instrument, as 
in the more difficult music the little fingers are often required to move and play 
equally with the others. 

Ihe thumbs should be sufficiently through the straps to get a firm hold. It is 
very important that the inner part of the wrist near the ball of the thumb should be 
kept easily against the instrument, leaving the fingers quite in readiness to play. 

I he bellows is guided by the thumbs. It is important to acquire a good hold 
of the instrument in that way, it being very often as necessary to almost prevent 
the bellows from moving as it is to use it freely. The vibrators varying in size 




















HOW TO PLAY THE CONCERTINA. 


199 


according to the depth of sound, the upper and smaller notes naturally require very 
much less air than the lower ones. During my great experience in teaching I have 
always found that if the wrists are allowed to curve outwards a bad tone is produced, 
because the management of the bellows is lost. The fingers should be kept as 
close as possible to the studs or notes, which in all cases must be firmly pressed 
down, the modulation of tone being obtained by the proper management of the 
bellows. 

The required sound is obtained by pressing down one or more studs or stops 
with the fingers, and drawing out the bellows, but no force must be used, otherwise 
discordant sounds will be produced, and the instrument may be injured. The 
bellows is moved backwards and forwards by the right hand, and it should be moved 
steadily, and as much as possible in a straight line, taking care not to turn or twist 
the instrument. 

It is preferable to draw out the bellows to the full extent, and then return it 
without making a break in the sound. Above all, avoid changing in the middle of 
phrases, but study the changes the same as for taking breath in singing. The best 
places for changing the bellows are at the end of phrases and during rests. On 
commencing the study of the concertina produce the tones rather softly, which will 
give a power and feeling to the handling which would otherwise be lost if the 
player forced the bellows. 

In performing loud, soft, slurred, or staccato passages, it is requisite to press the 
notes well down, all the variations of tone being accomplished by the management 
of the bellows. In staccato passages the notes must be struck sharply, only raising 
the finger slightly above the notes. In order to slur a passage keep the note 
pressed firmly down with one finger until the other finger is ready to press the next 
note, causing a smooth or gliding movement, always avoiding any pause or break 
between. 

The tremolo on the concertina is the same as that of the violin, violoncello, and 
guitar, and is accomplished by pressing the note firmly with the finger, the 
vibration or quivering being caused by the shaking of the hand, and not by the 
motion of the bellows, as is generally practised. The tremolo is one of the greatest 
beauties in a performance, depending both upon the taste and judgment as well as 
the skill of the performer; but a thorough knowledge of it can only be acquired 
through the aid of a master. 

A most valuable rule to adopt from the commencement is to play entirely without 
looking for the notes on the concertina. 

If harsh tones are at any time produced, it is the fault of the player, not of 
the instrument. With very moderate artistic skill the tone should always be 
melodious. 

The popular idea some years since was that the concertina was a very easy 
instrument to learn; I am glad to add that a great number of amateurs have studied 
the concertina as carefully as they would any other instrument, and play very 
beautifully. 

I think I may say that no instrument suffers more from bad playing than the 
concertina. One reason for this is that it is wifortunately tolerably easy to pick out 
tunes ; meanwhile the picker is tugging at the bellows, producing most excruciating 
noises, sustaining sounds which could only be bearable by their brevity, and 
causing any friends within earshot sincerely to wish that the concertina had never 



200 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


been invented. If people would remember always to press the studs firmly, and 
only allow the bellows to move sufficiently to produce the sound, all the harsh 
tones would be avoided; they do not belong to the use of the concertina, but to the 
abuse of it. 

A very important point in music is accent; without it a performance otherwise 
perfect becomes monotonous. It is one of the greatest difficulties on the concertina 
to accentuate properly, owing to the hands being occupied in drawing and pressing 
the bellows and the side movement of the fingers. There is no fear of making too 
much accent, provided it be made in the right place. 

There are many charming effects produced with different kinds of concertinas : 
tenor, bass, and double-bass, to take the string parts of the viola, violoncello, and 
double-bass. 

These are very useful to those amateurs who have not the courage or time to 
study stringed instruments. A very fair rendering of classical chamber music can 
thus be given, in which ladies can take part. 

When the concertina is held on the knee care must be taken that the folds are 
quite clear from any portion of the dress. 

There is usually a tendency to lower the bellows in drawing it out. It is much 
better to keep it as straight as possible. 



CHAPTER IV. 


AC COMFLISHMENTS. 







THE TWO CRITICS. 


















































































































CHAPTER IV.—ACCOMPLISHMENTS : ART. 


ON PAINTING IN WATER COLOURS. 

By John C. Staples. 

HERE are many considerations which, more or less con¬ 
sciously, influence young people in desiring to attain a 
facility in drawing and painting. 

If you, who are now taking up this section of our 
book with the intention to profit by it, do so merely in 
the hope to emulate this or that friend, ‘ if you desire 
only to possess a graceful accomplishment, to be able 
to converse in a fluent manner about drawing, or to- 
amuse yourself listlessly in listless hours ,’ 1 I beg you 
to pause. Believe me, the end which you propose to 
yourself, when attained, will not repay you for one 
tithe of the labour which must be expended in the 
pursuit. But, if your purpose is that of honest self¬ 
culture, if you would be able to understand and 
appreciate the treasures of Art handed down to us by 
the great masters; if you desire to produce good and useful work as a means 
of livelihood, or if you feel a genuine and strong impulse to reproduce and interpret 
the beautiful in Nature, then no pains which you may bestow on your object can be 
wholly unfruitful, and the labour which you devote to it will be both pleasurable 
and profitable. 

But few words are needed to guide you in the choice of materials for your early 
efforts. Those required in the first stages through which, in this and the following 
section, I propose to pilot you, are few and simple. 

Choose a sketch book, of a size that will slip easily into your pocket, containing 
leaves of ordinary machine-made paper. The cheapest you can get will be the 
most suitable for you. Procure an HB pencil, and a knife to sharpen it with, a fine 
steel pen, and some black writing ink. You may also get a piece of india-rubber. 

I prefer the vulcanised rubber (not ink eraser), but the less you use this the better 
for you. These are all the tools with which you need provide yourself at present. 

The progress which you make in the art of sketching from Nature will depend, 
among other things, largely upon the ease with which you take each successive step. 
In Art the best results are seldom produced with a conscious effort, but are rather 
. the outcome of precedent efforts, which, in the aggregate, no doubt represent a 
very large amount of thought and labour. It will be well for you, therefore, if you 
can feel pleased with yourself and your work at each successive trial, and if, while 

1 Ruskin. 














204 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR ROOK. 



devoting your matured judgment and your most faithful care, at each step, to 
getting your drawing well and, above all, rightly done, you can preserve a placid 
and a happy mind. If at any time the work is irksome to you, if you feel yourself 
becoming fretful or over-anxious, leave off at once, for you will only be wasting 
time and energy. For these reasons, and that you may preserve a useful and 


encouraging sense of confidence, it will be important for you to choose objects that 
aie easy to copy and not beyond the scope of your pow r ers. 

Do not be in a hurry to attempt ambitious and extensive landscapes. Festina 
Icntc. trust me, you will have no reason to regret your patience. But it is just in 
this very matter of choice that you will feel the most urgent need of an experienced 
eye and hand to guide you. I can do little more than point out a few of the things 
which j'Ou should avoid, and give you a few hints to aid your own judgment. 






























ON PAINTING IN WATER COLOURS . 


205 


And now, in the first place, if you have not had much preliminary training, 
I would advise you to take any single simple object that lies near to your hand, 
avoiding for this purpose anything that is too smooth, symmetrical, or polished, a 
fragment of coal, of a size that would fill the hollow of your hand, a bit of broken 
branch, devoid of leaves, but having one or two twigs, a tennis ball—one of those 
covered with leather and showing the seams (though this is certainly symmetrical) 
—a large, old-fashioned door-key, or indeed any convenient object that tempts you. 

I will suppose that you have chosen a bit of branch, such as that represented in 
Fig. 1. Place it on a sheet of white paper, at a distance of about three or four 
feet from your eye, where the light will fall upon it from the left, and then copy it 
carefully, taking great pains, in the first place, that your copy is neither too stout nor 
too slim, and next, that the general set of the curves is right and the angles at 
which the subordinate branches start off*. Draw at first very lightly, only just 
marking the paper, and do not be too careful to rub out false lines; leave them 
and draw over them, always very lightly, adding a bit here, taking away a slice 
there, until you have got your drawing as nearly right as your best endeavours and 
your ripest judg¬ 
ment can make it. 

Nevermind though 
it may look an ugly 
mass of tangled 
lines just now; it 
will be better, in 
the end, for you 
to trace the form 
through this net¬ 
work than to smear 
and roughen your 
paper with the 
india-rubber. 

When at last you 
think, honestly, 
that your copy is 

as accurate as you can make it, strengthen the true outline with a firm and 
steady hand. You may if you like, use for this purpose either the pencil or 
the fine pen that I told you to provide with ink; then add, still with the greatest 
care, any markings on the bark and any knots or irregularities, putting in 
only those that are prominent and well defined. Go over these with your pen 
or pencil, giving them their true relative strength, and your study will be com¬ 
plete. The same treatment, varied a little, according to circumstances, as your 
intelligence may suggest, will be applicable to any other object which you may 
select. Make a dozen or more drawings of this kind, always using the best 
endeavours of your mind and hand to get all right at last. Do not mind about 
making your drawings pretty at this stage. Make them accurate. The rest will 
follow. 

Next take a branch with half-a-dozen leaves on it, and draw this with the 
same care and under the same conditions, except that you may, if you choose, 
place it upright in a vase, or in the neck of a bottle, and put your white 





FIG. I. 





206 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


paper behind it. Do not shade the leaves nor the stem at present, but put in 
all the markings, such as the veins on the leaves, &c., which can be expressed by 
lines . 1 

When you have practised in this way until you have a good command of pencil 
and pen, and the hand obeys the eye with fair facility and accuracy, you may select 
any object which you have seen in your walks and which strikes you as being 
picturesque. A cottage-gate, with its rough stone steps, a shock of corn, a turnstile, 
a bit of tree trunk (and if the roots happen to be exposed through the moss and 
fallen leaves, or on a chalky bank, so much the better), or even a group of cottages 
or a mill—any simple scene which inspires you with the desire to reproduce its 
form on paper will do. I will suppose that you have chosen the first in the list— 
such a gate with its sunken steps as that represented in Fig. 2, and I make this 
supposition, not because the subject chosen is very picturesque or attractive, but 
because in explaining to you a method of setting to work in this case, I shall more 
conveniently be able to say several things which I am anxious to say and shall 
economise my space, which is an object of some importance. 

Your first difficulty will probably be to determine at what distance from the 
object you should place yourself. This you may find out, roughly, by holding your 
paper or sketch-book at arm’s length in front of your eye and walking backwards or 
forwards until the object, as well as a liberal margin surrounding it, is concealed 
from you by the paper; now settle yourself comfortably, and again hold your sketch¬ 
book at arm’s length, so that the upper edge cuts across the centre of the subject 
you have chosen. Then mark with your pencil, on the margin of your paper, the 
position of the post on the left, the two gate-posts, and the post on the right. 
Then shift the position of the sketch-book (still held upright before you at arm’s 
length) until the side edge cuts through the subject vertically, and mark off on 
that edge the positions of the top of the post, the bottom of the same, and 
the lower lines of the steps, taking good care not to shift the book during this 
operation. 

These points you will find, in the illustration, marked with distinctive letters, 
and if you will draw upright lines through a, e,f, and b , and horizontal lines through 
c, g, h, i, and I, you will get, at their intersections, some important points of 
departure. For instance, the lines drawn through a and b , on the one hand, and 
c and d, on the other, will enclose the material part of your sketch. The lines 
marked c and c , intersecting, give you the top of the left-hand gate post; e and g 
will give you the bottom of the same. Now draw this post between these two 
points, trying to give, by the eye, its true proportions of thickness. Proceed in the 
same manner to get in the right gate post, its position being marked on the line f 
by the lines c and g. Next count the number of palings in the gate; there are 
nine. Mark the position of the centre one with a single light upright line, 
somewhat shorter, you will observe, than the posts, and then arrange four similar 

1 It will aid you much in getting your drawing accurate if you will carefully observe 
and copy the shapes, not only of the stems and leaves, but also of the interspaces of 
white paper seen between these. And, again, it will be useful to get into the habit of 
regarding the objects you copy, not as the rounded solid substance you know it to be, 
but as an irregularly shaped patch of coloured shade on the white background ; and this 
you may more readily succeed in doing, by looking at the object with only one eye, or by 
half closing both eyes until you see only a blurred image. 




ON PAINTING IN WATER COLOURS. 


207 


lines at equal distances on each side of this centre one, for the other eight palings. 
Now look well at the horizontal rail on the right. Observe its position relative to 
the other points, its form, and its slope downwards, and draw it, to the best of your 
ability, not caring, however, to get at present more than the true set and position of 
its outlines. So, again, with the corresponding rail on the other side. Now sketch 
in the general form of the crooked post on the extreme right, which is just within 
your boundary line b , and then the other post, on the left, which is cut by the line 
a. The stone steps remain. The line h will give you the general position of the 
lower edge of the first of these, and you will see that its length lies between the 



fig. 2. 


right-hand gate-post and the eighth paling. Similarly the lower edge of the second 
step lies on the line /, between the second paling and a point a little beyond the 
left gate-post. By the like observations you may determine the position of the 
lowest step. Now draw in the palings with double lines on each side of those 
which already mark their position. Add the horizontal and diagonal bars of the 
gate, where you see them, and sketch in the three upright palings on the right with 
unremitting care. Your sketch should now present a fairly accurate copy of the 
object before you, drawn in faint and delicate lines. 




















































































208 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Before proceeding any further you must prove your lines and proportions by a 
process which I will try to make clear to you. Take your pencil between the finger 
and thumb of the right hand, and hold it upright before you at arm’s length, so that 
the upper end of the pencil appears exactly opposite the top of the right-hand gate¬ 
post, and mark off with your thumb on the pencil the point where the bottom of 
that post comes. Now, without moving the thumb, and keeping the pencil still at 
arm’s length, turn it to a horizontal position, and you will find that the gate from 
outside to outside of the posts is as wide as it is high. See, therefore, if your sketch 
is right in this particular; if not, alter it. Never mind the pains. No trouble is 
too great, if it gets your drawing right at last. Of course, if the posts are wrong, 
the palings are wrong too, and you must correct them. Again, with upright pencil 
at arm’s length, and thumb sliding up and down to mark tne distance, compare the 
height of the gate-post with the length of the middle step. You will find they are 
equal. Are they so in your sketch ? If not, alter the step to the length of the 
post, which you had better assume to be right in your drawing, for you may then 
take it as a standard to which all other dimensions may be referred. Again, the 
horizontal rail on the right is a little—very little—less than the height of the post. 
Is yours shorter in the same degree ? Similarly you will find the horizontal rail on 
the left is about half as long as the post. The extreme length of the bottom step is 
equal to the height of the sketch from eto d , and so on, and so on. Now, at last, 
when you have tried and proved the accuracy of your drawing to the utmost of your 
power, you may take your pencil or your pen, and with a firm, steady line, draw in 
the correct outline, still looking carefully and continually at Nature as you go, 
copying the irregularities that you see, breaking off a line where it is interrupted 
and beginning again when you can again see it clearly, and putting in the knots 
and cracks and stains, &c., where they occur. Last of all, you may, if you will, 
mark in the position of the tufts of grass and weeds, and a few branches and masses 
of foliage, indicating only the extreme outli?ies in the manner shown in my sketch. 
But this is not necessary. If you do it, do it with every care of which your mind 
and hand are capable. The lines which are intended to express the shape of a tuft 
of grass should express the shape of that individual tuft with as much truth as if 
you were copying a cottage roof or porch. On the whole, however, it may be 
better for you to leave out for the present these matters of detail, for your 
one object now is, as I have said, not to get a pretty drawing, but an accurate 
drawing; and with leaves and grasses it will be difficult for you to test your own 
accuracy. 

As you feel your powers extend, you may attempt more extended views. It is 
impossible for me, here and now, to anticipate the difficulties which may beset you 
in your progress; and, indeed, were it possible, I am not sure that it would be 
always and altogether desirable. It will, in the end, be better for you to find out 
for yourself methods of overcoming difficulties as they arise, and this chiefly because 
you need in Art dexterity of mind much more urgently than dexterity of hand. 
Every production of the artistic faculty, if it possess any value at all, owes nine- 
tenths of that value to the power of the mind that thought it, and but one-tenth to 
the facility of the fingers that wrought it. Therefore, if you aim high in Art, 
cherish the simplicity and purity of your mind. Above all things, cultivate a 
faculty of ready apprehension and appreciation of the beautiful and' the suggestive 
m Nature. Train your mind to devise modes of artistic expression, just as you 



ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


209 


train your fingers to execute them. The former will be more important to you 
than even the latter. 

All pictorial art is, and in the nature of things must be, an expression of ideas 
by the means of conventional signs, a sort of elaborate hieroglyphics. I will £ry 
to make my meaning clear to you. 

Your arrangement of so many upright and horizontal and slanting lines on a 
piece of paper is not a cottage, any more than a certain number of appropriate 



descriptive words and phrases is that cottage. The draughtsman and the writer do 
but use the methods each has at his disposal to call up in the mind of the beholder 
or the reader the idea which they wish to evoke; the one method is as arbitrary as 
the other. 

Your outline drawing, then, was but an exercise in the expression of ideas by 
conventional signs of a rudimentary sort. Your arrangement of lines, to be precise, 
was intended to express in a rough way the shapes of certain masses of shade and 

p 



















210 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


light of different tones and colours. It will now be your task to express these masses 
and patches in a less imperfect way, by imitating their depth of tone and relieving them 
against one another, or gradating them into one another; and although it may still 
be convenient to retain your outline drawing as a preliminary to the shading, and 
sometimes as an adjunct to it, yet I would have you remember, what is a trite 
commonplace of art, that there is no such thing as an outline in nature, for what we 
endeavour to express by outlines are only the edges of patches of shade or colour 
adjoining other such patches of a lighter or darker tone, and these boundaries can 
no more be truly expressed by a line drawn on paper than can the mathematical 
k line which is defined as length without breadth. The ideally perfect drawing would 
dispense with the use of outline altogether. 

And I think it will be well for you, even in your early studies, that you should 
realise the limits which the materials under your hand impose upon you, as well as 
the large possibilities of graphic expression which they afford. 

I mean this : that if, for example, you are using the pen and ink, you can very 
satisfactorily represent any piece of drawing which depends for its expression upon 
the set of its lines, upon the ruggedness or the unbroken sweep of its outlines, or, as 
in the case of an ancient tree-trunk, the richness of its knotted and lichen-stained 
bark, and so on; but you cannot give smooth and gentle gradations of shadow 
except at considerable cost of labour, and then only with an approximation to the 
delicacy of Nature. Realise this, and limit yourself to the representation of those 
characteristics of the scene which the pen is adapted to express. Again, with a soft 
pencil or with chalk, you may very readily get soft gradations of shade, but cannot 
so readily represent fine crisp lines. Devote your efforts, then, in this case, to the 
gradations of shade, and let the finer, sharper touches take care of themselves. If 
you will do this, working sometimes in the one manner, sometimes in the other, you 
will gain a wider experience and will produce better drawings in each kind. 

You should pause, too, from time to time, in your work and consider, not only 
whether the lines and the masses of light and shade which you are disposing on 
your paper are right in shape and relative proportion and prominence, though this 
is of primary importance, but also whether, by any deftness of touch, or emphasis of 
line or tone, or by any device, you can make your drawing more accurately 
descriptive to the beholder. Be always asking yourself what is the characteristic 
quality of this or that portion of your sketch, and whatever else you may miss, give 
that in its full force. 

So much in general terms. We must now address ourselves to our task of 
substituting light and shade for our outline drawing . 1 And if you ask, 4 How am I 
to shade ? ’ I reply, 4 Anyhow you please,’ in the manner which, on trial, seems to 
yourself most easily and readily to bring out the power of the instrument you employ. 
If you are using the pen, the favourite tool with many accomplished artists, you 
must shade with clear lines, arranged side by side more or less closely. If when you 
have covered a certain space in this way, you find that an increased depth of shade is 
needed, you may cross them with others laid in a different direction, and the whole 
may be reinforced, if necessary, by a third set drawn still in a new direction; but it 

1 It will be desirable for you, at any rate for the present, to retain the habit of making 
a faint preliminary outline drawing, so that you may arrange the tones and shades in 
their true positions with decision and accuracy, and avoid a hesitating and timid method 
of execution. 



ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


211 


is best to try to get the required depth of tone at first, either by a closer arrangement 
of lines or by using thicker lines; in this way you may get an approach to flat tints 
or gradations of shade with pure lines. 

Never begin to cross one set of lines with others until the first set is quite dry. 
In representing distant objects you will find that fine lines arranged very closely 
together will be best; but as you approach the foreground you may use thicker 
lines, wider apart, or even a blot of ink, to reinforce the deepest darks. 

With the pencil (those marked HB, or Faber’s No. 2, are best for all ordinary 
work) you may proceed in the same manner, but now you have this advantage, that, 
by pressing lightly on the point, you get a faint grey line, by pressing harder a dark 
one, and by using the side instead of the point you may get a good broad line, grey 
or dark, according to the force you employ. All these qualities are valuable, and 
you must use these and invent others, as your judgment and the requirements ot 
your work suggest. The chief drawback to the use of the pencil is a disagreeable 
shiny quality in the dark passages. Black and white chalk are very useful for 
rubbing in transient effects of sky and landscape, and for general use; the best tint 
of paper to use is a pale, warm grey, and charcoal is even a freer and more facile 
material. Of the use of the brush I shall have occasion to speak later on. You 
should make yourself familiar with the employment of all these tools; but after due 
experience, choose that which lends itself most readily to your impulses. Make it 
your slave ; conquer it thoroughly ; and then you may indeed amuse yourself with 
the others; but you should work with this. 

When after careful practice devoted to this end alone, you are able to produce 
flat spaces, evenly tinted to any required tenderness of pale grey, or depth of black, 
or medium tone, and can gradate a space evenly from light to dark, you may again 
take your seat before Nature, and fill out and enrich your sketch with the proper 
gradation and opposition of tones which you see before you, following, to the best 
of your ability, the exact relationship, in degree of lightness and darkness of the 
different objects, or parts of objects, you have selected to copy. 

At first you will find, no doubt, some difficulty in estimating the powers or values 
of objects, that is, the proportionate quantities of light or dark which express them 
in the picture. For instance, the extreme delicacy and, at the same time, variety 
of tone in distant objects will be a matter of constant surprise and perplexity to 
you. You will continually find that you have exhausted your scale of tones in the 
representation of the distance and middle distance, and have nothing left for your 
foreground objects but a monotonous and heavy black; but experience will teach 
you in time a wise economy of tones, and you will not be so ready to over-estimate 
the extent of the resources at your command. In the meantime you may with profit 
begin sometimes with the foreground and work backwards to the distance. 

The translation of colour, as such, into black and white is another matter which 
may puzzle you a little at first. It will have an important but very simple effect on 
the tones of your drawing. I will give you an illustration. Imagine, if you please, 
that you have before you three roses identical in shape, the first of the pale colour 
of the tea rose, the second pink, and the third a rich damask. Now a drawing of 
the form and the modulations of light and shade of one of these roses will evidently 
answer for the rest, for they are supposed to be identical in all but colour. If, 
therefore, you add to the first a very delicate flat tone of grey, to express the 
difference of its creamy tone from pure white, and a deeper tone to the second, to 

p 2 



212 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


express its pinkness, and a still fuller tone to the third, to represent the fulness and 
richness of its damask, you will have enabled the observer to determine which is 
intended to represent this, that, and the other rose. Every colour has its equivalent 
value in monochrome, and a little practice, added to a great deal of attention, 
observation, and comparison, will enable you to translate the one into the other. 

So, again, the red roof of a cottage, other things being equal, must always demand 
a deeper tone of grey adequately to represent it than will suffice for its plaster 
walls; but, on the other hand, you must note that light and shadow may modify the 
intrinsic tone value of colour; so that, if the sunlight glances brightly on the 
cottage roof last mentioned, and at the same time throws the shadow of a tree upon 
its whitewashed wall, this last must be represented (white though it is known to be) 
by a tolerably deep tone of grey, while the roof may be the lightest passage in the 
picture. This would be the case in the illustration were the wall wholly in 
shadow, but one patch of sunlight remains on the white wall, and this is naturally 
the highest light. In the same manner a greyish-green ash will stand out light 
against the richer foliage of the oak, and this will be paler than the sombre yew; 
yet the accident of a passing cloud may reverse all these values . 1 It is for you to 
observe diligently, and to treasure up, in note-book and in memory, a store of such 
facts, and by this means to mature your judgment and enrich your fancy, and convince 
yourself that in Art, as in other matters, ‘ things are not always what they seem.’ 

Take your sketch-book, then, and record passing effects of light and shade 
quickly; more permanent effects with greater care. Work now for the sake of 
acquiring rapidity and dexterity in seizing the essential character of the scene or 
effect before you, and again for the sake of elaborating a portion of it. Select very 
often ‘ little bits,’ and study them lovingly and carefully. A bit of cottage gable, 
with its lattice window and its broken tiles and soft, rounded tufts of moss, will 
reward you amply for all the care you can bestow on it. Strive to get the nature 
of the thing expressed; try make your glass look transparent, your tiles as rough, 
irregular, and stained as those upon the roof, and your moss soft and velvety. If it 
is a clump of weed that you have chosen, be sure that each stem has its individuality 
of springiness and elasticity, and each set of leaves and blades their symmetry and 
freedom. 

So far I have supposed you to be working from Nature for the purpose of pure 
study; striving to see things as they appear, not as you thought them to be, nor as 
you would wish them to be. Your drawings may have been unpleasing, but at 
least you have striven to make them right. This is well. Fidelity to Nature must 
ever be the religion of your art. But you may now try to find pictures instead of 
studies in your surroundings, and I shall endeavour to aid you in determining whether 
this or that scene possesses the elements of a pictorial composition. If you can 
acquire a faculty of judicious selection it will be of great practical value to you, and 
will save you much fruitless labour expended on inadequate objects. 

I have said ‘ fruitless labour,’ and I will not recall the phrase, for it gives me 
occasion to remark that, after all, none of your efforts can be wholly fruitless. Let 

1 * Value.’ This term, which I have already several times employed, signifies in 
these pages that quantity and quality of tone which justly expresses the colour of an 
object, added to the light or shade falling on it, and modified by the distance at which it 
is viewed—its force or power in black and white, when all the circumstances affecting it 
are taken into account. 








ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


213 


it be your consolation, as it has often been my own, that we learn as much from 
our failures as we do from our successes. Try to remember this when you have 
made a dull, ineffective, or inaccurate sketch—when you feel tempted to throw 
aside your pencil in disgust, and to tear your paper, confessing to yourself that you 
have miscalculated your capabilities. Lay your pencil quietly on the shelf, place 
your paper untorn in the portfolio, and assure yourself—for it is surely true—that the 
next time, or the next, you will do better, for you will gradually learn wisdom by 
experience, and will acquire a wholesome distrust of hasty impressions. 

There are certain rules and principles in Art which will aid you in judging of 
the pictorial value of any scene and in doing justice to its merits. These will form 
the subject of the next section. 

Be deliberate, and exercise your judgment in your choice of a subject. It is, 
indeed, true that any group of forms, if you will sit down and faithfully copy it, 
will be good practice, and will aid in training the hand and the eye to act in unison. 
Do not, therefore, be discouraged if you find that you have not chosen as well as 
you might, and that your drawing after all looks flat and ineffective, or scattered 
and wanting in unity. A little more thought and a little more practice will enable 
you in the future to select a scene more suitable to pictorial expression, and I trust 
that an intelligent perusal of the succeeding paragraphs will enable you to fix readily 
upon a good and ‘rewarding subject’ when you meet with it in Nature. Do not 
imagine, however, that I am now about to set forth a code of arbitrary rules. That 
is not so. I am rather about to submit some hints for your guidance which, though 
they possess the sanction of authority, and have survived the test of practice, must 
yet bow before your individual sense of the fitness of things in any particular case, 
and most especially must they be subordinate to the expression of character. For 
example, if it is your intention to represent a scene of gloomy severity, a balanced 
arrangement of light and shade would evidently be unsuited to your purpose ; or, if 
your intention be to impress the mind with a sense of solitude and desolation, you 
may with propriety and advantage neglect the ordinary rules for the management 
of light and shade. 

Nevertheless, on the proportionate quantities and relative positions of the lights, 
shades, and half-tones in your drawing will depend, in a very large measure, its 
pleasurable effect upon the beholder. A judiciously-chosen subject will nearly 
always present on the one hand a graduated mass of light, on the other a 
graduation of shade ; and these two masses will be harmonized and brought to¬ 
gether by surrounding half-tones. Moreover, these lights and shades will be varied 
and intertwined, harmonized and contrasted; Nature only can teach you how. The 
delicate tints will brighten towards a point of pure light, and the shadows grow in 
depth towards the darkest portion, not with a monotonous equality in the gradations, 
but still with a distinctly traceable balance of effect. 

The essentials, then, are a leading light and a leading dark, and, to give due 
value and subordination to these, a surrounding half-tone. 1 Where these exist 

1 I would have you to bear in mind, that the illustrations to these sections are not 
set before you as models. They are explanatory notes added to this or that paragraph 
of the text, and written in another language—a language addressed to the eye instead 
of to the ear. For instance, in the illustration on page 214, you will find, to assist you 
in comprehending what I have said above, a simple arrangement of a leading light on the 
cottage wall on the left, a leading shade in the foliage and on the wall upon the right, 



214 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


there is the foundation of an effective picture; but if in the scene before you there 
are to be found several dark values of about equal force scattered here and there, 
or if the lights are broken into equal masses, and disposed on this side and that of 
the picture, then no accuracy of drawing or dexterity of touch can avail to make an 
effective sketch from such materials. You had better reject the subject at once; 



A COTTAGE SHOWING A LEADING LIGHT AND SHADE. 


vvl11 ’ >'° u , m ?y wa ; t t0 see lf the . Shifting rays of the sun will not add light 
to light here, and dark to dark there, until a unity of effect pervades the scene If 

this is so, then seize the happy moment, and work your best and hardest to secure 
the passing effect A simple opposition of light with dark is one of the commonest 


a varied half-tone over the rest of the 
large,’ that they may strike the eye at once 
qualities are consciously sacrificed. 


picture. These features are purposely ‘ writ 
; and in order to attain this object many other 





















ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS . 


215 


effects in Nature, and is constantly presented in every class of subject. In the 
illustration below you will find it in the rocky bank of a Surrey lane, where the 
oak sapling which cuts the light gives interest to a ‘ bit ’ which would otherwise 
have been too crude and flat to be worth the trouble of copying. 

It follows, from what I have said above, that you should study your surround- 



A SURREY LANE. 


ings under different effects of light, for you will find that many scenes which you 
have passed at one time without a second glance will present, under more favour 
able conditions, all the elements of an interesting picture. That cottage whcih 
looks flat and sordid under the noonday sun, may suggest a truly poetic senti- 

















































2 lC 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


ment when it stands out against the evening sky, and when the multitudinous 
details which distracted the eye are massed in the gloom of approaching twilight. 
Again, another group of buildings, which perhaps looked heavy and lumpish in the 



CLOUD LIGHT AND SHADE. 


half-light, may grow interesting and effective when the morning sun lights up this 
gable, throws that corner into shade, glitters on the dormer window, and shows 
the rose-laden porch, and the crooked spout, and the water-tub by the kitchen-door in 



LANDSCAPE LIGHT AND SHADE. 


varied values of half tone. I think it will be good practice for you sometimes to 
rub in on your paper a generalised idea of the schemes of light and shade, without 
any of the forms or outlines, and afterwards to add the detail over or through this. 









































































ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


217 


If you will look at the illustrations on page 216 you will readily comprehend my 
meaning. 

It may, not unnaturally, occur to you to ask what amount of space in the 
picture is to be occupied by this leading light, this leading dark, and this half-tone 
of which I have spoken. To answer such a question definitely is as impossible as 
it would be undesirable. This would be to set up a code of arbitrary rules, the 
adoption of which I have already deprecated, and this would fetter all freedom and 
destroy all originality. 

I may say, however, in general terms that in scenes viewed by diffused daylight 
it will commonly be found that the mass of the picture will be occupied by a varied 
scale of tints approaching the true half-tone, or medium between pure white and 
black; and on this half-tone the high lights and deep darks, where they occur, will 
stand out to great advantage. If, however, the scene be a broad and extended 
one, brightly illuminated by the direct rays of the sun, the light tones will more 
or less prevail throughout the picture; and, on the other hand, in stormy 
effects, in the evening, and in deeply-shadowed scenes, the dark tones will 
preponderate. 

Observe however, that, in order to get a full measure of varied interest and 
telling effect into your drawing, all the light must not commonly be found on the 
one side, nor all the dark on the other. The unrelieved breadth of such an 
arrangement would be somewhat dull and heavy. Consequently, if you can find a 
touch of deep tone cutting and relieving your chief light, preserve it carefully, and 
give it its true relative force. And, again, if you can discover a point or two of 
light to break the heaviness of your deep tones, it will be to the advantage of the 
general effect to make the most of such an incident. Thus, if the sky, as will most 
often happen, affords you your high light, it may happily be relieved by a delicate 
tracery of branches or a feathery mass of foliage breaking across it, modifying its 
too uniform brightness and carrying the darker tones through the picture. Or, 
again, if the leading dark should lie among the rocks which border a stream, a flash 
of reflected light on the water might well at once relieve and give an added value 
to the otherwise too heavy shadows: or if, as in a sunny pastoral, the principal mass 
of shade lay under a group of thick trees, its sombreness might be relieved by a 
figure in light-toned drapery, or a few sheep, or by a flock of geese grazing in the 
cool shadow. And remark that it is just here, where it is wanted for pictorial effect, 
that you might most reasonably expect to find your figure or your sheep. 

Something of all this may be traced in the illustration on page 218 which 
represents a cottage on Dunsfold Common, Surrey, seen by an evening light, where 
the main principle of the arrangement of light and shade is a gentle gradation of 
tone passing from the full dark of the outbuildings on the left through the lighter 
tones of the front of the cottage, and so on to the high light in the sky. Here a 
subsidiary effect of contrast is introduced by the opposition of the dark chimney ; 
but it is not of sufficient importance in size or strength to compete with the prevailing 
principle of harmony which pervades the picture, and which is prevented from 
being too monotonous by the fragmentary darks on the right of the cottage walls, 
and by the touches of light introduced in the clothes on the lines and in the figure 
of the woman carrying a pail. 

An appreciative and cultivated eye will ever make itself felt by readily seizing 
upon passing incidents of light and shade, which may be made to enhance the 





A COTTAGE ON DUNSFOLD COMMON, SURREY. 

































































































































































































































































































































































































































ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


219 


interest and value of a sketch in a degree which will surprise and delight you as 
you proceed with your studies. 

The quality as well as the quantity of light and dark tones must also engage 
your attention. The high light of your drawing should be pearly and translucent, 
not chalky and opaque ; and the deep dark must be rich and velvety in quality. 
To attain these ends, you must devote the most careful consideration to the 
gradations of tint which lie between these extremes and surround them ; for the 
lights and darks depend wholly on these tones for their favourable exhibition. 

I do not think that you will ever be able to gauge with the eye, much less record 
with the pencil or brush, the infinite delicacy of the gradations and the playful 
variety of oppositions of the tones presented to you by Nature, but you must do 
your best to follow them, because each delicate tint of light gives both harmony 
and contrast to the tint which preceded it, and leads up to the point, or points, of 
highest light, which, without the relief that these afford, would appear crude and 
staring. And so with the deeper shades, the more numerous they are, and the 
more quaintly they are varied in their disposition, the greater the value of their 
combined effect. 

Now a few words to direct your attention to a very important point—the feeling 
or sentiment which your drawing may be made to express. It is not practicable 
for me, here and now, to offer more than a hint or two, which your own intelligence 
and experience must serve to amplify. 

If you are observant you will have found that in scenes where a sentiment of 
quietude and repose prevails, the principal light is usually separated from the 
chief dark by a considerable space, and that the intervening portions of the 
picture are occupied by a gentle scale of intermediate tones, whereas, in those 
subjects which possess a more striking and energetic effect, the deep dark is in 
closer opposition to the high light, and surrounding these are the varied gradations 
of half-tones. 1 This example, crude and familiar as it is, will serve to make clear 
to you the line of thought to which I wish now to direct you. 

Study these differences in the character of different scenes, and reason upon 
them. Bring the intellect and the sympathies to the aid of the senses, for it is by 
attuning your mind to a familiar and appreciative intercourse with Nature and by a 
comprehension of her hidden meanings that you will alone be enabled to interpret 
her to others, and to produce drawings which shall not be mere typographical 
descriptions, but shall shadow forth something of those qualities which stir our 
hearts with vague emotion at the sight of the beautiful, the tender, or the noble in 
Nature. 

As you come to attempt more extensive and ambitious landscapes, you will find 
that these are by no means simple, but are complex in their nature, and that each 
component part is in itself a little picture, subject to the same rules and built 
upon the same principles as any other; and, further, that all these parts must be 
brought together in due subordination and in a definite relationship, to form the 
entire picture. 

Lastly, if all this seems to be a ‘ hard saying,’ remember, for your consolation, 

1 To avoid confusion, I speak here only of the power of light and shade to express 
such qualities as those of repose, of stress, of tenderness, and so on ; but the arrangement 
of the lines in a picture is also very important in this connection, and so are other more 
subtle constituents of the composition. 



220 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


that you are not now, perhaps not ever, to try to compose a picture. The rules 
and principles which I have so far set forth, or which I may yet bring to your 
notice, are only to be borne in mind when you are looking at Nature, in order to 
guide you in your selection, and to enable you to understand and recognise some¬ 
what of the less obvious laws of arrangement which, although they may be, and 
are often, overlooked by the uninstructed, yet do as surely underlie the most 
beautiful scenes in Nature as they do the most successful works of Art. 

When at length you can make a satisfactory drawing of the forms (outlines) 
and of the shades or tones of any easy landscape scene in black and white, you 
may proceed to the attempt to reproduce the colours of the objects before you. 
But, first of all, there are new materials to be procured; new tools, with the 
handling of which you must become familiar, and some preliminary instructions to 

be laid to heart. 

The requisites for water-colour painting, 
reduced to their simplest elements, may be 
classed together under three heads :—A plane 
surface to paint on, brushes to paint with, and 
pigments to supply the colouring matter. Of 
these last a perfect red, a perfect yellow, and 
a perfect blue are, in theory, all-sufficient; but, 
inasmuch as these perfect colours are not 
attainable by any known means, the fact will 
not affect your practice materially. You may 
as well note and remember it, and it may afford 
you some guidance by-and-by. 

Of these three elementary requisites it is the 
merest affectation not to choose and to use 
the best upon which you can lay hands, and I 
shall endeavour to aid your judgment in 
selecting the best of each sort; but do not 
make too much account of your materials. 

You will recognise in good time that, in 
comparison to deftness and ability and resource 
in their management, the quality of your materials is insignificant. I think it 
was Sir Edward Landseer who painted a picture (in oils) on a sheet of the Times 
newspaper. Turner rubbed in shadows with his forefinger and scratched out lights 
with his thumb-nail; and Mr. Ruskin, in one of his most striking passages, says :— 
£ Give me some mud oft' a city crossing, some ochre out of a gravel pit, a little 
whitening and some coal dust, and I will pamt you a luminous picture, if you give 
me time to gradate my mud and subdue my dust: but though you had the red of 
the ruby, the blue of the gentian, snow for the light, and amber for the gold, you 
cannot paint a luminous picture, if you keep the masses of those colours unbroken 
in purity and unvarying in depth.’ 

Bear all this in mind, and do not miss the chance of noting down a beautiful 
and transient effect of colour to the best of your power, because you have only the 
inside of an envelope to paint upon and because that peculiarly luminous yellow 
which you ordered from your colourman has not yet arrived. But bear also in 
mind that a sharp knife is a better eraser than the thumb-nail, if the same skill and 



HOW TO TEST DRAWING-PAPER. 







ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


221 


judgment guide each, and that raw umber under the same conditions is certainly 
preferable to mud. The point to be observed is this : that the materials with 
which you work, good or bad, are only means to an end; the result is all in all. 

Inasmuch, however, as the good workman, though he may be able to produce 
excellent work with indifferent tools, will ever prefer the best for the purpose which 
lie at his disposal, I will now endeavour to guide you rightly in the choice and 
preparation of these elementary requisites for water-colour painting mentioned 
above, taking them in the order in which they are there set down. 

First, with respect to the plane surface on which you are to paint. 

I believe that for this purpose nothing, upon the whole, more satisfactory can 
be chosen than Whatman’s hand-made drawing-paper of medium texture, and of a 
good thickness, strained, as I shall presently show you how, upon a common deal 
clamped drawing-board. 

This paper is manufactured of three textures, which are technically distinguished 
by the terms ‘ rough,’ ‘ not,’ and ‘ hot-pressed.’ 

The sort called ‘ rough ’ is, as its name implies, covered with little knots and 
depressions, while the ‘ hot-pressed ’ is passed, at a certain stage of its manufacture, 
between heated rollers, to give its surface a smoothness and gloss. The ‘ not ’ 
paper is a medium between these two. It has the grain of the ‘ rough,’ but is finer 
in texture, and it avoids the satiny surface of the ‘hot-pressed,’ which is too polished 
to take the washes of colour kindly. For all ordinary landscape work the ‘not’ is 
to be preferred. The others are useful, perhaps indispensable, for certain sorts of 
work, but for your purposes at present nothing can excel the ‘ not.’ 

Besides the surface of your paper, the substance should also engage your 
attention. It should not be too flimsy, but it need not be too stout. That which 
weighs 90 or 100 lbs. to the ream will serve admirably. I need not trouble you about 
the sizing of the paper. It is, indeed, a point of paramount importance, but if you 
get Whatman’s hand-made paper, and get it from a respectable artist’s colourman, 
you may for the present, I think, make your mind pretty easy upon this point. 

In the best papers flaws will sometimes occur, and you should never fail to 
examine each sheet that you buy, so that you may reject at once such as are 
imperfect. To do this hold the sheet, face downwards, above the level of your eyes 
with the outer edge sloped upwards towards the light, and look up at the inverted 
surface. If any spots appear upon it brighter or duller than the general tone (they 
will usually be duller), reject it at once ; but if the whole surface, as you turn it about 
to let the light strike downwards from every part, seems perfect and unsullied, then 
you may select it with confidence. 

It will sometimes, but not often, happen that, in spite of your most careful 
examination, flaws will show themselves when you come to paint upon your paper ; 
the colour will perhaps sink in at a certain spot, which will show up darker than the 
rest, and this flaw will become more and more prominent as you proceed with your 
painting. You need not mind the fault, i r it be not very glaring; I will tell you 
presently how you may overcome it. If, however, on damping your paper with 
clear water it presents a mottled appearance, as it will do at times, although in its 
dry state it appears perfect, then take it back to the person from whom you bought 
it and get another piece in its place, for it is of no use to you. 

Be sure that you paint on the right side of your paper. The reverse cannot be 
depended upon, and it is often difficult to tell at a glance the face from the back. 





222 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


The right, or working side, is that on which, when you hold up the sheet between 
your eye and the light, you can read the maker’s name in the watermark, with the 
letters running in their natural order from left to right. Mark this side on each 
margin with a pencil, so that you may know it again. 

Now when you have chosen your paper, it remains so to fix it that it shall 
preserve a plane—that is, an even—surface when it comes to be wetted with clear 
water, or with broad washes of colour. 

The most effectual and, I believe, the best mode of securing this flatness, and 
preserving it through the whole progress of the painting, is to strain the paper in 
the manner I am about to describe on an ordinary clamped or panelled drawing- 
board of a convenient size. You may indeed buy ‘ blocked sketch-books,’ which 
will save you this trouble, but they do not, in my experience, keep a flat surface 
when wetted; and often when the drawing is carried to the full extent of the paper, 
the moisture dissolves the cement with which the leaves are fastened together, 
and the result is then a very billowy and unsatisfactory surface, which never comes 
quite flat again. 

These blocks provide, however, so ready and economical a surface for sketching 
upon, that the disadvantages which attend their use may be overlooked in view of 
their many counterbalancing advantages; and, if you can afford it, it will be as well 
for you to possess one or two of different sizes. They will serve excellently, at any 
rate, for your slighter work. 

For the drawings which you intend to execute with some amount of finish and 
to submit to those processes of sponging, washing, &c., which become necessary in 
more ambitious efforts, it is best to proceed as follows. Get a drawing-board of 
deal as above mentioned (the size known as ‘ 4to imperial’ is very useful), and 
a piece of carefully selected paper, cut to such a size as to project about an inch 
and a half on every side of your drawing-board. Lay the paper face downwards on 
a clean table or on a larger drawing-board, and place the board on the middle of it, 
as in Fig. i (p. 224). Now take a sharp-pointed knife and cut away the corners as 
shown in Fig. 2 (p. 224), then remove the drawing-board. Provide a clean towel or 
cloth, a soft sponge, some clean water, and some stiff paste ; rice paste is said to be 
the best, but common paste made of flour and water serves every purpose. Spread 
the towel smoothly on the table, and perform the succeeding operations on it. 
I will tell you why presently. 

Lay the paper upon the towel, and with the sponge full of water damp both 
sides thoroughly, and leave it for some ten minutes to absorb the moisture. Then, 
looking carefully to see that the face of the paper lies downwa?'ds next to the cloth, 
replace the drawing-board on the paper, in the position it occupied when you cut 
away the corners, and with your paste brush paste the strip A of the paper, and also 
about an inch in width of the back of the drawing-board, where the edge A will lie 
when it is folded over. Now fold the pasted strip over the back of the board, 
being specially careful not to allow any movement of the board. To this end press 
heavily with the left hand on the centre of the drawing-board, while with the right 
you pull and pat and smooth the strip of paper firmly, and cause it to adhere 
tightly to the back of the board. Proceed in the same way with B, C, and D, in 
their turn, and you may then take up the board with its strained paper and set it 
aside with its face to the wall to dry. 

It is here that you will find the advantage of having a cloth underneath, for if 



ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS . 


223 


these operations had been carried on upon the flat bare table, the exclusion Of air 
during the pressure applied in the process of pasting would have caused the wet 
paper to adhere to the table, just as the toy called a sucker adheres to a flat stone ; 
and the force needful to raise the board might probably have loosened the paper 
and spoilt the result of all your pains. 

Before the paper is ready for painting on it must be allowed to become quite 
dry; and here I will give you two warnings : do not on any account rub, nor, if 
you can help it, touch the face of the paper while it is wet; and do not force or 
hasten the drying of the paper. If you are in a great hurry, and are tempted 
to bring it near the fire, place it with its back towards the fire, and not very close, 
not within four or five feet, so that the paste may set before the face contracts; but 
you will do very much better to leave it in a dry atmosphere without having 
recourse to artificial heat. 

Framed drawing-boards are sold, in which the moistened paper is held in its 
place by the pressure of a movable panel. These do, no doubt, economise time 
and trouble to some extent, but I have never found them quite satisfactory, and no 
time or trouble need be counted lost which gives you, in the result, a good and 
comfortable surface to paint upon. 

So much for the drawing-paper. Your next care must be to procure proper 
brushes. Of these the most generally useful are those made of brown sable hair. 
The red sable brushes are stronger and stiffer, and these qualities give them 
a value in working foregrounds and other portions of a landscape where the colour 
is used in a less fluid state, and for these parts even the hog-hair brushes used by 
painters in oil are sometimes very serviceable. To begin with, however, three 
round brown sable brushes of the sizes usually marked, when made with metal 
ferrules, 2, 4, and 7, respectively, and one flat sky or wash-brush of Siberian hair, 
for very broad, smooth washes, will suffice. 

The other sorts may be procured as the need for them makes itself felt, or as 
curiosity prompts you to make the trial. 

You must learn early to choose your brushes judiciously, for they are expensive; 
and although a good and well-made brush, if it is treated with the consideration it 
deserves, will last long and improve with use, an indifferent brush will rapidly 
deteriorate and soon become hopelessly bad. 

In choosing a brush, pass it once or twice, while it is dry, across a piece of 
paper, or across the back of your hand, to separate the hairs thoroughly; then hold 
it upright between your eye and the light, and cause it to revolve slowly between 
your thumb and finger, in order to observe whether the hair springs out symmetri¬ 
cally and taper evenly towards the point. If there are any straggling or uneven 
hairs, or if the tips of any of the hairs appear to have been cut off, it is a bad brush, 
and may be thrown aside at once. When you have found several to pass the 
preliminary examination, ask for some water, and, having wetted one thoroughly, 
draw it firmly and rapidly once or twice across the edge of the glass in the direction 
from root to point, to remove superfluous water; then examine it closely, to see if it 
shows any tendency to divide into two or more points, in which case it would be 
useless. If it shows one smooth, round, unbroken surface, tapering to a good 
point, try it further by painting with the clear water on a piece of paper, and 
observe if, after pressing it on the paper, it springs back swiftly and unfailingly to 
its normal shape. If it does (and you must not cease your quest until you find one 




224 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


that passes all these tests), then you may hope that you have a good and seiviceable 
tool which will repay all the care you can expend upon it. 

Never let the paint dry in it. If you let Chinese white dry in it only two or 
three times, it will appreciably injure it. Never let the hairs be rubbed the wrong 
way while it is drying, but wash it thoroughly, and smooth it tenderly to a point 
each time you have finished with it, and leave it in some secure place until you 
require its services again. 

Do not think all this advice fidgety and superfluous, the first paragraph of this 
section notwithstanding. If it is the bad workman who quarrels with his tools, it is 
also the good workman who cherishes and loves them. 



DRAWING-BOARD AND BRUSHES. 





I had almost forgotten to tell you never to choose a brush with too weak, that 
is, too tapering and prolonged a point, however good the brush may seem to be in 
other respects. With such brushes it is impossible to get a single satisfactory 
stroke. The representations of the sizes of brushes above will give you an idea of 
a fairly well-shaped point; in the margin I give you the caricature of a weak and 
thready point as a warning. 

Our third requisite is colour. Colours are now prepared in three forms—in 
cakes; in pans, when the colour is so tempered by the addition of some slowly- 
drying medium or vehicle, as it is technically called, as to remain moist for a long 
time; and in collapsible tubes, whence a small quantity of the still more fluid 
pigment may be squeezed as it is wanted. Of these three forms I believe the first 
































































































ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


225 


—the hard cake colours—to be the absolute best. If you use these, you should 
grind a sufficient quantity of the colours you need round the margin of a china 
palette before commencing your work. The second form is decidedly the most 
convenient and ready, though not so cleanly as the first, and the pans may be 
arranged in a japanned tin colour box, with palette and wells attached, which are 
all that need be desired for out-of-door work. The tube colours are only suitable 
for works of large dimensions, where a considerable quantity of colour is required 
in a very accessible form; for sketchers and amateurs the tubes would probably be 
very wasteful. 

With regard to the colours themselves, the following list embraces the majority 
of those in common use for landscape. There are many others, of course, and a 
list of all those which are made may be procured without cost from any artist’s 
colourman ; but from those enumerated below a choice may be made which will be 
quite sufficient for your present needs :— 

Yellow. —Aureolin, Cadmium, Lemon Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Raw Sienna, 
Indian Yellow, Gamboge. 

Orange. —Burnt Sienna, Orange Vermilion. 

Red. —Light Red, Indian Red, Madder Lake. 

Green. —Olive Green, Emerald Green. 

Blue. —Antwerp Blue, Indigo, Cobalt, French Ultramarine. 

Neutrals (from warm to cold).—Madder Brown, Raw Umber, Burnt Umber, 
Vandyke Brown, Sepia, Payne’s Grey, Blue Black, Chinese White. 

I append a few remarks upon the qualities of these pigments, but your most 
valuable knowledge of such matters must be drawn from active experience. 

Aureolin .—A very pure yellow, bright without crudity, transparent, useful for 
evening skies, for pure greens, &c., and said to be quite permanent. Half pans, 
is. 6d. each. 

Cadmium. —A very brilliant and intense mineral colour, washes well, and is 
permanent; very useful for glowing skies, as also for mixed greens. Semi-trans¬ 
parent. Half pans, is. 6d. each. 

Lemon Yellow. —A pure pale yellow, permanent, nearly opaque. With a slight 
admixture of emerald green it gives a peculiarly pure sunny green, and used thickly 
is very useful for brilliant pale golden lights. Half pans, ij. 6d. each. 

Yellow Ochre. —A dull golden yellow, extremely useful. It is almost opaque, 
and has a tendency towards orange. It is quite permanent. Mixed with the 
brighter blues, it gives a scale of sober greens most useful in landscapes; and 
its combinations with cobalt and light red, either or both, in varied proportions, 
are unsurpassed for the distances and middle distances of a wooded landscape. 
Whole pans, is, each. 

Raw Sientia. —A richer gold than the last, and transparent; is best used in 
rather thin washes and for glazing, that is, for passing over other tints to give 
warmth and a sunny effect. Used pure it is good for autumnal tints, and in 
mixture with the blues gives very clear greens. Half pans, 6d. 

I?idian Yellow. —A very fine rich yellow, excellent for mixed greens. It is 
opaque, and is valuable from that fact. It can be used thickly with good effect. 
Permanent. Half pans, 9 d. each. 

Gamboge. —A very transparent yellow gum. Like raw sienna, it should be 
used thinly, as it has a tendency to a brown opacity. In combination with the 

Q 



226 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


blues, it gives fine bright greens, with sepia a useful olive, and with madder lake 
a rich colour, quite transparent, for glazing over autumnal tints. Half pans, 6d. 

Burnt Sienna. —A very beautiful transparent orange, tending towards brown. 
Its clear washes give fine sunny tints, very useful in foliage, buildings, animals, and, 
indeed, throughout a landscape. Quite permanent. Half pans, 6d. 

Orajige Vermilion has much less transparency than the above. It is a useful 
colour in landscape, especially for skies and grounds. Half pans, is. 

Light Red .—A transparent, but not powerful nor bright red earth, very useful 
in combinations with the blues for producing grey cloud tints and for giving warmth 
and neutrality to the greyish and purplish greens of distance. Permanent. Half 
pans, 6 d. 

Indian Red .—A deeper, stronger red than the last, and inclining more to the 
purplish scale, very useful for greys. Half pans, 6d. 

Madder Lake. —A beautiful rosy red, not very intense, but permanent. With 
indigo it produces beautiful greys for shadows. It possesses a wide sphere of use¬ 
fulness in its combinations with other colours, though not much used in purity; may 
be used with great richness of effect as a glazing for gorgeous evening skies, &c. 
Half pans, is. 6d. 

Olive Green. —A useful mixed green ; it may be altered, cooled, or warmed by 
the addition of other colours, but if used in too great depth it has a tendency to 
blackness. Permanent. Half pans, 6d. 

E7nerald Green. —A very peculiar brilliant opaque green. As it cannot be 
produced by any mixture of blue and yellow, it is almost a necessity in the colour- 
box, though it is not very often required. Half pans, 6d. 

Antwerp Blue .—A deep transparent mineral blue, inclining towards green. 
With the pure yellows it gives very bright greens, too crude, however, for general 
use, but with the oranges it makes fine broken greens, and with Vandyke brown a 
beautiful olive. With the reds, especially Indian red, it gives fine strong greys. 
Half pans, 6d. 

Indigo. —A deep, clear, but not bright blue. Very useful when used sparingly, 
but heavy and black when used in excess. Particularly useful when used with 
Indian red for purplish shadow tones, as these two colours may be washed over 
without washing up. Half pans, 6d. 

Cobalt.— A bright semi-transparent clear blue, not very dark in its deepest tones. 
The most widely useful colour in the box. With light red it gives a series of greys 
for sky and cloud, mountain and distance, and these two, with yellow ochre added, 
are capable, when mixed in varying proportions, of giving almost all the tones and 
colours required in distant field and foliage. With aureolin, or gamboge, it gives 
beautiful bright greens, and with the reds the purest and most permanent greys. 
Half pans, is. 

French Ultramarine. —A deeper blue than the last, and with a tendency towards 
purple, which renders it useful in the composition of very pure purples. It is some¬ 
times required in skies, and for certain greens. Half pans, is. 6d. 

Madder Brown. —A rich reddish brown, very deep and very transparent, 
excellent for deep warm shadows and pale glazings. It makes very fine greys with 
French ultramarine or cobalt. Half pans, 9 d. 

Raw Umber. —A sober brown; very useful in buildings and roads, &c. Semi¬ 
transparent. Permanent. Half pans, 6d. 



ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


227 


Burnt Umber. —A deeper, warmer brown than the above; good for shadows 
and in buildings. Permanent. Half pans, 6d. 

Vandyke Brown. —Very rich and transparent; warm in its deepest tones, and 
widely useful. With the strong blues it gives excellent neutral greyish greens, 
which may be rendered more positive by the addition of yellow. Half pans, 6d. 

Sepia. —A very strong, cold brown. This gives cool greys by admixture with 
blue. With gamboge it will give a neutral green ; washes of pure sepia are very 
clear and stand well. Permanent. Half pans, 9 d. 

Bayne's Grey. —A neutral grey, tending towards violet. When mixed with 
orange or a warm neutral it gives good shadow tints. Half pans, 6d. 

Blue Black. —This may be used to break the extreme brilliancy or crudity of 
the strong colours. With white, or used in thin washes, it gives quite neutral greys. 
It is permanent. Half pans, 6d. 

Chinese White. —This is a very perfect white ot extreme density, and quite 
permanent It forms an indispensable adjunct to the colour-box. It should be 
procured in bottles, as it is then easy to keep it moist by the addition from time to 
time of a few drops of water or of ammonia, or, better still, of a mixture of one part 
of glycerine to two parts of water. You must, however, be sparing of the glycerine, 
or the white will dry with great difficulty. This white is used for points of high 
light, and for mixing with the colours to make them paler, and to give a solidity 
of appearance and a dull flatness of quality often very desirable. Bottles, is. each. 

Although these are but one-third of the colours now manufactured, they are yet 
many more than will be needed for any one landscape painting. They will all be 
useful if you can afford to get them all, but if not you must make a selection. I 
myself find it convenient to possess a good choice of yellows, and to be more 
sparing in my adoption of other colours, especially of mixed colours; but I am 
diffident of offering advice in this matter, as my judgment is still suspended on 
some points. The following selection has been recommended, and I think it is 
well chosen : Aureolin, cadmium, yellow ochre, gamboge, burnt sienna, orange 
vermilion, light red, Indian red, madder lake, cobalt, indigo, Vandyke brown; 
twelve colours in all. To these must be added a bottle of Chinese white. 

Water you must of course have, and you may carry it in any wide-mouthed 
bottle fitted with a good cork that will hold from a quarter to half a pint. You 
will also find it very convenient to provide yourself with a few sheets of blotting- 
paper, a small piece of sponge about half the size of your fist—Turkey sponge is 
best—and a light folding-stool to sit upon. A knife for erasing you already possess, 
and pencil, chalk, or charcoal for the preliminary outline. 

You are now in a position to take your stand before Nature, and to attempt a repre¬ 
sentation of her varied tints and shades, her beauties of colour as well of effect; but 
I have still much in my mind that I could wish to say to you in the way of warning 
and guidance; very many things which I shall not find space to say at all, and 
others which I must condense into curt suggestions, in order that I may be able to 
bring them to your notice. These you must try to amplify as your ingenuity and 
growing experience may suggest. If, after a few months’ work, you will take the 
trouble to read these directions again, you will, I think, find many suggestions not 
without their value, the points of which you may have missed at the first glance, 
partly because you had not then felt the difficult es which they are designed to meet. 

In sketching from Nature in the open air decision and rapidity of execution are 

Q 2 



228 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


for the most part very essential; but beware of making this an excuse to yourself for 
careless and slovenly work. You must use your judgment to the utmost, and use it 
with promptitude and readiness. Before you put brush to paper ask yourself what 
is the form, what is the tone, and what is the hue of that coloured patch which you 
are about to represent. Is it gradated, and in which direction? Answer these 
questions mentally at once, and use your best dexterity to carry out the result in 
your drawing. Above all, beware of encouraging the pernicious habit of putting in 
ill-considered or unconsidered touches, ‘ to see how it will look.’ 

I think you will soon desire to use your sketches at home in the production of 
more finished drawings, of which those are to be the motive and the foundation. It 
is well you should do so sparingly, if only to show you how weak and poor, for all 
its elaboration, is work which does not bear the direct impress of Nature, but is only 
her reflection at second hand. Still some transient effects must be wrought out at 
home by the aid of studies and careful though rapid sketches, and even written 
memoranda of colour and effect and light and shade, and also by the aid of 
memory. 

It is in this home or ‘ studio ’ work that the following practical hints on 
manipulation and management of material can be carried out to their full extent, 
with the proper appliances at hand. You should, however, adopt any suggestion 
which seems applicable to your out-door work, once more remembering that in such 
work over-elaboration is to be avoided, and thoughtful care and deliberate but prompt 
decision are to be made to take its place. 

In mixing your tints or washes, always take that colour first of which the largest 
proportion is to be used, then add the other. 

Never use three colours in combination where two will serve. 

Always be very sure to mix and work a wash thoroughly with your brush, not 
only at first, but every time you take a fresh brushful. Many pigments, the mineral 
ones especially, however carefully ground and prepared, sink readily to the bottom 
of the saucer, and, if it were not stirred up, the wash would become fainter from 
this cause. It is quite difficult to keep a wash of vermilion equal in strength. 

In this connection I will add a few words on the mode of gradating a wash of 
colour, which is a delicate operation, requiring much care and practice. 

Prepare in your saucer a small quantity of colour of a strength equal to the 
darkest part of the gradated tint. Now, with a soft brush, pass a wash of clear 
water over the whole space of paper to be tinted, and when this has sunk a little 
into the paper, take up the superfluous moisture with clean blotting-paper. Without 
this precaution you will never, or only with great difficulty, get a perfectly smooth and 
even gradation. Next slope your drawing-board or sketch-block, and place it so 
that the part to be darkest lies uppermost. Take a brushful of the prepared tint 
and pass it across the upper portion of the space from left to right; then add a 
brushful of water to the tint in the saucer, stir thoroughly, and pass a second wave 
of colour across the space, letting it just mingle with the lower edge of the first 
brushful, and so on downward, mixing at each dip of the brush more water to the 
wash in the saucer, until you come to the bottom of the space to be tinted. Here, 
if the colour runs into a pool, you may take it up with the edge of a piece of 
blotting-paper, or, having squeezed your brush dry, you may absorb the extra 
moisture with the point. 

In this manner, with practice, you will soon be able to lay gradated surfaces, 



ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


229 


large or small, and by adding more or less water each time you replenish the brush, 
you may make the gradation sudden or gradual at will. 

Never forget to damp the paper before commencing a wash, nor to use the 
blotting-paper. 

Never let the brush be quite exhausted of colour before replenishing it, nor let 
the brush be so full, or the paper so steeply inclined, as to cause the colour as you 
float it on to run down in a stream. 

Never pass over one wash with another to strengthen it before the first is quite 
dry; though, when the first is quite dry, you may, and should, again use the wash 
of clear water and the blotting-paper before proceeding with the second, so as to 
work always, as much as possible, on a damp surface. Note, however, that where 
there is broken colour, and where irregular forms are found with varied depths of 
tone, as in the foreground and the middle distance, you may often with great 
advantage add colour here and there while the under tint is wet; but be careful in 
doing so not to work up, or disturb with the brush, the colour which is already laid, 
or you will sully both tints. 

Always work as much as possible from above downwards, or, at least, do not 
wash in an upper portion while the lower is wet, lest the former should run into the 
latter and spoil it. 

Now with respect to the lights in your drawing. If these are soft and gradated 
at the edges, you may carry the surrounding wash of colour over them; and then, 
while the colour is quite wet, having drawn your brush through the folds of a sponge 
or cloth held tightly between the fingers, you may with the point (constantly kept as 
dry as possible by the same means) absorb the colour where necessary, and so 
recover your light; but if the light is a large one and sharply defined, it should when 
possible be left untouched in laying in your wash. Do not, however, spoil the breadth 
and evenness of your wash by trying to leave small unimportant lights. These can 
always be taken out or put in afterwards by methods which I shall describe. 

In the first place, you may use a sharp knife or eraser to scrape away the surface 
of your paper. In this way the spray of falling water may be rendered very 
effectively, or the bloom of white flowers on foreground weeds, or many other 
irregular small forms, and if the surface so erased be burnished with some smooth 
hard instrument, such as the ivory handle of a knife, the surface will then bear 
tinting with any requisite tone of colour; but great judgment and dexterity are 
necessary in order to get a good effect by this method, and it is difficult to alter 
lights so produced. 

If the lights to be taken out are not very bright, a good plan is to wet that 
portion of the drawing where the light appears with a fine brush and clear water, in 
the exact position and form in which the light is desired, and then, having absorbed 
the moisture with blotting-paper, to rub the place smartly with a handkerchief, or, 
better still, with a wash-leather wrapped round the finger. If this does not produce 
a sufficiently clear light, the spot may again be moistened, the blotting-paper again 
applied, and the space rubbed over with bread crumb or indiarubber, but delicately, 
to avoid destroying the texture of the paper, and producing a disagreeable woolly 
appearance. I hope it is hardly necessary to remark, that in all cases the surrounding 
surface must be dry—quite dry. 

Lastly, you may put in small sharp lights with Chinese white laid on thickly 
with a fine brush. These may be glazed over when dry with any hue to any 



230 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


required depth, or colour may be added to the Chinese white before it is applied. 
This last method is extremely useful in very small touches, but colour so mixed is 
always rather chalky and dull in appearance (often a great advantage), and wants 
the transparency and brilliance attainable by means of glazing, that is, passing a 
wash of some transparent colour over a painted surface. Again, Chinese white once 
applied can with difficulty be altered or removed, therefore it, too, requires much 
care and some experience in its use. 

Contrary to general belief, a water-colour drawing is as susceptible of alteration, 
or even more so, than a painting in oil. The damp sponge may be used with clear 
water and repeated gentle dabbings, to reduce the depth of any portion which is 
found to be too dark, or a wetted wash-leather wrapped round the finger may be 
used for the same purpose. If, however, the portion to be altered has received 
much thick colour, as in a foreground approaching completion, and especially if the 
colours which compose it embrace complementary hues, the mixing of which would 
produce a dirty grey, it is better to cut out a mask in stout paper which shall expose 
the part to be erased, and then, having superimposed this shield, so as to protect the 
successful portion of the drawing, to sponge boldly and firmly until the defective 
work is entirely removed and the clean paper recovered. When the spot is quite 
dry it may be painted on with as much freedom as at first. These are some of the 
manipulations, dexterity in which must be acquired before success can be attained. 

With respect to the contents of the last paragraph, remember that it is immeasurably 
better to be right at first than to be nearly right at last, and no pains or thought or 
deliberation devoted to this end of being right at once can be other than pure gain 
both for the present effort and for future possibility of successful work. Neverthe¬ 
less, do not, I beg of you, abandon any drawing which has gone a little wrong. In 
spite of natural disappointment, do all you can with it. Persevere by all methods to 
make it the very best that your powers at present can produce. At the worst, when 
you look at it some time hence, it will serve to mark the measure of your progress, 
and at the best—and this oftener than you suspect—your fresh eye will detect in it 
excellences which you cannot now see, and which will serve as a lesson to you in 
your more advanced work. 

I had almost forgotten to say a word on a cause of defect which is beyond your 
own control. In spite of the careful examination of each sheet of paper which I 
have recommended, you will sometimes find a small flaw make its appearance as 
you proceed with your drawing, and if it happens to come in the sky or any light 
portion of the work it will be difficult to conceal. The best plan is to disregard it 
until your drawing is finished, then, having cut a mask as recommended above, 
sponge out the defective portion. If the paper is stained, pass a thin wash of 
Chinese white over it, and leave it to dry. You may then stipple up the faulty space 
to an equality in tone and colour with its surroundings. 

In your early efforts to produce drawings in colour, and, indeed, I think, 
throughout the course of your practice of painting in water-colours, a new difficulty 
will assail you. This difficulty is at once to make just allowance for the relative 
effects of colours one upon another. 

You will, probably, have already felt this disturbing influence, in a modified and 
much simpler form, in the effect which opposing tones of light and shade exercise 
upon each other. You will have found, perhaps, for example, that a certain bit of 
distance which you had copied carefully, so that each tone and gradation seemed to 




ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


231 


have its true relation and modulation of effect, fell away into a ghostly and misty 
insignificance when you drew in the bolder darks, sharper lights, and more decided 
forms of the foreground objects. Or a light, perhaps, which looked soft and mellow 
at first, has been rendered crude and staring by the opposition of a strong dark in 
its vicinity. Now apart from, and in addition to, mere tone, colours, as colours, 
have a very complex effect upon one another, and a rudimentary knowledge of the 
grammar of colouring will be of much service to you. 

I say a ‘ rudimentary knowledge,’ for you might, I think, as well try to fore¬ 
shorten the human arm by the rules and diagrams of perspective as to get a landscape 
right in colour by the rules of chromatology. Nevertheless, a comprehension of 
the broad principles which govern the influence of colours one upon another, may, 
as I have said, save you 
some groping in the dark, 
for the causes which may 
make your colour at 
times look all wrong as 
a whole, whilst at the 
same time you feel sure 
that each tint individually 
is right. 

Now, without troub¬ 
ling you much about the 
composition of white 
light, prismatic colours, 
and so on, let me tell yon 
that there are three sim¬ 
ple, or primary colours, 
so-called because they 
cannot be produced by 
any combination of other 
colours. These are 
Yellow, Red and Blue. 

Next come the secondary 
colours, which are formed 
by the mixture of these 
primaries in pairs ; thus 
Yellow and Red produce 
Orange, Red and Blue produce Purple, and Yellow and Blue produce Green. 
Orange, Purple and Green, then, are the secondary colours. These, again, mixed 
together in pairs, as before, form the tertiary scale of colours. Thus Orange and 
Purple form Russet, Purple and Green form Olive, and Green and Orange form 
Citrine. If this admixture of colours were carried any further, if Russet and Olive, 
Olive and Citrine, or Citrine and Russet were commingled, we should get scarcely 
distinguishable tints of grey; and since these colours, all of them, are produced 
from simply Yellow, Red, and Blue we are led up to the fact that these primary 
colours themselves, when mixed together in certain proportions—that is to say, 
three parts of Yellow to five of Red and eight of Blue, form a quite neutral grey, 
that is, such a grey as is produced by the mixture of pure black and white, so that, 









232 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


improbable as it seems, grey, or, in the case of the prismatic colours, pure white, is 
built up of all the bright colours which we see in Nature. Knowing this, we know 
that if we select any colour, say Blue, certain other colours added to and mixed 
with that Blue would bring the whole to a neutral grey. These additional colours 
are called the complementary of the colour selected. In the case of Blue—Yellow 
and Red, that is to say, Orange, would neutralise the colour. Therefore Orange is 
the complementary of Blue. 

In the primary order of colours, the complementary of each is that secondary 
which is composed of the other two primaries. Thus— 


The complementary of Yellow 


n 


v 


Red 


v 


Blue 



Red. 

Blue. 

Yellow. 

Blue. . 

Red. 

Yellow. 


And, of course, vice versa, among the secondaries :— 


The complementary of Purple is Yellow. 

Green „ Red. 
Orange „ Blue. 


v 


}f 


But these secondaries have also complementaries derived from the tertiary scale. 

Thus the complementary of Purple is not only the primary Yellow, but also 
Citrine—that is, the tertiary formed from the other two secondaries, Green and 
Orange. 

The complementary of Green is not only Red, but also Russet, that is, Orange 
and Purple. 

The complementary of Orange is not only Blue, but also Olive, that is, Purple 
and Green. 

The composition of the secondary and the tertiary scales, and the opposition of 
complementaries are clearly given in the figure on page 232. In the intermediate 
ring each secondary colour embraces the two primaries of which it is composed, 
and so in the outer ring each tertiary embraces the two secondaries of which it is 
composed. Again, each tertiary lies nearest to that primary in the inner ring of 
which it has most in its constitution. Lastly, each colour will be found to be 
exactly opposite to its complementary. Thus, Purple is opposite to Yellow and 
also opposite to Citrine—its complementary from the tertiary scale. Green is opposite 
to Red and also to Russet, and so on. A contemplation of this figure will, then, I 
hope, elucidate the foregoing remarks, if they require elucidation. 

Now, the value of all this for you lies mostly in the fact, that any colour is most 
forcibly and brilliantly brought out and set off by the juxtaposition of its comple¬ 
mentary. To borrow an illustration from Mr. Penley’s excellent handbook :— 
‘ Power ’ (or force of colour) ‘ does not consist in strong and gay colours, but is 
entirely the result of proper combinations and contrasts. Place the pale and delicate 
primrose in warm green, orange, or scarlet, and the contrast is gone; but on a 
purple or plum-coloured ground it will tell with brilliancy and vigour.’ The same 
is true of the other complementaries. Mark the fact well, for it is a warning as well 
as a guide. Such strong contrasts may be, and, indeed, are, useful and even 
indispensable at times, when used sparingly and with judgment; but, for the most 






ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


233 


part, the eye receives a more lasting and refined pleasure from sober and delicate 
contrasts. 

Next I wish to point out to you two broad divisions into one or other of which 
all colours naturally fall. These are the warm and the cool. To the warm scale 
belong yellow, red, and all the mixed colours in which these primaries predominate. 
To the cool scale belong blue and all hues in which it appears prominently. Black, 
white, and the neutral greys are also assigned to this scale. 

These two scales always contrast with each other, much as light and shade 
contrast in a monochrome drawing. It is scarcely possible to select a landscape in 
which both warm and cool hues do not appear in a greater or less degree, and it is 
by a skilful massing of these warm and cool colours, and breaking of each into the 
other, in the same way and under the same restrictions as are to be used in the 
management of light and shade, that a broad harmony of colour is secured and the 
necessary degree of contrast introduced. 

You may, indeed, with a little ingenuity, apply to this subject all that I 
have previously said on the disposition of lights and shades, by substituting the 
term ‘ warm colour ’ for ‘ light tone,’ and ‘ cool colour ’ for ‘ deep tone,’ and 
the exercise will, I think, serve to impress the rules for the management of both 
usefully on your memory. 

So far all is simple enough, but there are several other and more perplexing 
considerations connected with the subject. Not only is each tone altered in 
depth by a different tone placed near it, as I have already remarked, but each 
warm hue is made warmer by a cool one opposed to it, and cooler by a warm one. 
Each colour throws a halo of its complementary around it. bach colour causes in 
the eye a tendency to see the complementary of that colour for a time, wherever 
else it looks, and finally, every colour seen beside another causes a change of 
appearance in that other colour, and is reciprocally changed itself. These 
phenomena are, however, very striking only in the case of the brightest colours 
most strongly contrasted; and this is one reason why pictures wherein the tertiary 
colours prevail or in which the brighter primaries or secondaries are sparingly used 
are so much easier of management. 

Further into this subject I may not now go, nor do I think that you need go 
further, unless you intend to embrace art seriously as a profession. Even in such a 
case, I am not at all sure but that the time you might spend in studying such 
works as Mr. Martell’s little Handbook on the Principles of Colouring, Field’s 
Painting in Weale’s series, Field’s more important Chromatics , and the 
exhaustive work by M. Chevreul, useful and excellent as they all are, would not 
be much better spent in cultivating what is called ‘ an eye for colour,’ that is, an 
instinctive sense of the beautiful in colour by studying and learning to appreciate 
and love the endless beautiful harmonies and contrasts of colour which Nature 
spreads lavishly around you. 

Learn by heart the lovely and tender scale of tints in a young birch stem, which 
starts from silver and passes through cream colour and ivory to the most delicate 
flesh tints, and so on through softest, palest browns to a rich velvety depth which 
reminds you of the colour of a dark sealskin fur; or the gradations on the bark of 
a young oak, which starts with pale rosy grey on the lighted side, and cools down 
into lilac, and so into neutral grey and on to cold greyish green, with perhaps a 
blot or two of rich deep golden green, to make all the rest look still more delicate. 



234 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Mark the tender contrast of the silvery green willow foliage, with its pearly grey 
bark, which itself finds a contrast in the cinnamon-coloured rifts that break it here 
and there. Try to disentangle the shifting opalescent tints that flash and mingle 
when the light from an evening sky strikes upon a not too calm sea. Watch for 
and enjoy all these and a thousand other lovely combinations which Nature will 
show you as soon as you honestly and humbly desire to see them ; but, above all, 
never, if you can help it, miss an opportunity of studying with admiration and 
gratitude that great storehouse of infinitely varied scales of colour, ranging from 
the richest flaming crimson, gold, and purple, to the palest green and grey, or the 
most sombre storm hues. I mean the sky at sunrise and at sunset. Do this, and 
if an instinctive feeling for what is right and beautiful in colour combination is not 
thus awakened within you, I fear it would not be aroused by all the rules of 
chromatology or by the most exact consideration of the coloured rays in the 
prismatic spectrum. 

A few words now on the method of bringing forward a landscape drawing, the 
progressive treatment, that is, of a drawing, from a technical point of view. 

But first it is not advisable for you to attempt in the beginning an extended 
landscape. As in your drawing so, now, in your painting, it will be best for you 
to commence with ‘ little bits,’—the component parts, so to speak—of a landscape. 
When you have acquired the power of representing these, you will be able to attack 
a wider view with good hope of speedy success. 

Choose some simple object, not liable to change except by the change of light, 
such as a rock, the trunk of a tree, a stile, or any other convenient object that 
answers to the above condition. 

I will suppose that you have chosen a picturesque rock, irregular in form, 
telling the story of its growth and vicissitudes in its stratification and cleavage; 
for every object in Nature, even a pebble, has its own story to tell, and if your 
work is to have any historic value, you must fathom the hidden meaning of all the 
forms you see, and interpret them truthfully and legibly to the beholder. 

Begin by making a careful outline in pencil, but only of the boundary lines and 
of the large markings, to serve you as guides and landmarks when drawing in the 
smaller forms with the brush. Do not suppose that you have done with 
‘ drawing ’ when you lay aside the pencil, for every touch of your brush must 
be descriptive of form as well as colour. Never in your anxiety about other 
things forget this, for it is the basis of all truthful work. 

Next wash in the first general tint, the tint which prevails throughout, say, 
for limestone, warm or cool grey, or in the case of red sandstone pure burnt 
sienna; but paint, at first, very much lighter than you intend to finish. Now blot 
in with wet colour the forms of the shadows, observing whether they are warmer 
or cooler than the lights. This done, you may begin to imitate the varieties 
of colour in the lighted portion, not forgetting to take into account the effect 
which the colour already laid will have upon the tints you are placing over 
them. For instance, if you have washed in a general tone of cool bluish grey, 
and wish to paint a portion of a warm purple, pure red would probably serve your 
purpose, for the underlying blue would show through, and the combined effect 
would be the purple you need ; but note here, that if the colour to be introduced 
is a complementary to the groundwork—if, for example, you wish to show a tuft 
of green on a red sandstone rock—you must either leave the space for the green 






ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


235 


at first, or take it out with the handkerchief or some other of the methods already 
described, otherwise the red ground will sully your green and bring it to a dirty 
grey; unless, indeed, the green is of a sombre and broken colour, in which case the 
red ground might bring a very vivid green to about the right colour. A little 
thought and consideration will lead you aright in such cases. 

Having introduced into the lighted portion of your study an approach to the 
variety in form and colour of the natural object, turn your attention next to the 
shadow side. Bring this to the required depth by repeated washes of thin colour, 
each smaller than the last, and not by one heavy tone. Lastly, reinforce toe 
whole by small, sharp, bright touches, where you see them, in the lights and by 
thin glazings of the local colours in the shadows, and your study will be complete. 

I will add two warnings. Make up your mind from the first which is the 
lightest portion and which the darkest, and do not cut up the breadth of general 
effect by exaggerating the incidental markings; secondly, beware of a cold 
blackness in your shadows. Paint them, at first, with rather warmer and richer 
colours than you think you see in Nature. 

You may next, if you choose, select a single branch with its foliage seen from 
a short distance on a calm day. Draw the outline and paint it, as in the case of 
the rock, at first very lightly with the local colour, regarding it, for the present, 
merely as a more or less rounded mass, having one side in light and the other in 
shade. Do not in this first painting carry your colour quite up to the edges. 
Next mark out carefully the position and form of the subsidiary tufts of leaves, 
both in the light and in the shadow, by means of the dark markings which lie 
underneath them. Lastly, draw in, crisply, with a brush not too full of pretty 
strong colour, the forms of individual leaves where they show prominently in the 
mass and where they stand out clearly at the edges ; also ‘take out’ some of the 
small bright lights and add the stem of the branch where it is seen, giving it its 
due roundness and all its irregularities and roughnesses of texture. 

But, again, beware of letting the introduction of individual forms of leaves 
interfere with the general breadth of light and shade in the mass. They should 
only be sufficient to give character to it. And do not hastily conclude that this 
contradicts the principle which I have so strongly insisted on throughout these 
sections—that, namely, of fidelity to Nature; for in looking at a large number of 
objects the eye only perceives each clearly when it is bent upon that one to the 
exclusion of the rest. In looking at the assemblage as a whole, you perceive only 
the mass with a certain character added, which is given by the more prominent of 
its individual members. 

Make a great many studies of this sort, choosing them as varied in subject as 
your opportunities will permit, and then you may proceed to a complete landscape, 
a mode of executing which I shall attempt to describe somewhat in detail. 

Undertone ,—It is advisable, but not imperative, to begin by passing a thin wash 
of some warm colour over the whole of your paper before commencing your 
drawing. This may be done at home. The object of this operation is to avoid a 
chalky whiteness in the lights that are ‘ left/ and to break the rawness of any 
thin tints of pure colour that may be laid on afterwards—the blue of a clear skv, 
for example. It should be just strong enough to give the paper a creamy tone, 
but should be distinctly visible when a piece of white paper is laid upon it. It 
may be varied according to the warmth or coolness of the general effect in the 
scene chosen. Sometimes a wash of light red will be good, at another yellow 



236 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


ochre may be substituted, oftenest a tint of yellow ochre and brown madder will 
be best. It should be prepared very thin and laid on evenly, but the depth and 
warmth may-often with advantage be increased as the foreground is approached. 

Outline .—The outline will next demand your attention. I trust I need add 
no word on the importance of accuracy in this stage of your drawing, but I wilt 
repeat the caution given above against putting in minute detail. If you have too 
much of this on your paper, you will constantly need to fight against a temptation 
to leave unimportant lights, and you will be led to sacrifice the freedom of your 
washes of colour in order to preserve small forms which can better be introduced 
later. Harmony and breadth of treatment can only be secured by keeping your 
washes very broad at first. You will be surprised to find how often tones which 
you think heavy will be converted into lights or half lights by the contrast of the 
dark touches introduced in the finishing. Beginners generally err in making all 
their lights too crude and staring. The trained eye perceives some tone on all the 
lights except the very highest. 

The qualities to be aimed at in your pencil sketch are lightness and firmness 
of line, decision and accuracy of drawing. The foreground may be put in with 
more strength than the distance, but the pencil-marks should nowhere be heavy 
enough to sully the purity of the subsequent painting. The forms of clouds, if 
they are drawn in with the point at all, should be most delicately suggested, 
preferably by a dotted line, so as to avoid any appearance of hardness at the edges. 
The same holds true of the boundary lines of masses of foliage seen against the 
light, and distant mountain forms and the like. 

Sky .—It is usual to commence with this portion of the picture, and by so doing 
and by causing sky tints to fade away into and over the distance and middle 
distance you may prepare the way for much softness and effect of atmosphere in 
these parts of the drawing. On the other hand, it will serve usefully to emancipate 
you from the bondage of too rigid a method, and give you confidence in yourself 
and the power of your materials, if you will sometimes paint in the bolder and 
nearer forms first, and then wash in the sky up to and, perhaps, over these forms, 
re-touching and strengthening them afterwards where necessary. 

In the representation of the sky the most important points to be observed are 
(i) the suggestion of curvature or recession, and (2) the general tone or value as 
compared with the other values of the picture. Beginners generally see the sky 
as a flat space of grey or blue, or what not, more or less mottled and streaked with 
clouds. It is not so. It is an overhanging plane, receding from the highest point 
outwards and onwards to the horizon with as true a gradation as that with which 
the solid earth recedes from the foreground to the same horizon. The forms and 
tones of clouds may always be made very useful in suggesting this receding 
quality; but, even in the clearest sky, the gradation from blue, say, at the highest 
point down through paler blue to the greyish tint always seen, at least, in this 
climate, near the horizon will, if truthfully given, sufficiently indicate it. I am 
speaking now of a daylight sky ; of course in the evening the gradation might be from 
blue and grey, through faint green to pale gold. The scales of colour are endless, 
but the suggestion of curvature and gradually-increasing distance towards and up 
to the horizon is ever present. 

Then as to the general tone of the sky. Except in the case of stormy effects 
and heavy rain-clouds, the general effect of the sky will be a broad expanse of 




ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


2 37 


light. Be very careful to preserve this breadth. Work all this part of the drawing 
with a delicate hand. 

Execution. —With respect to the mode of working a sky, you will find it best 
to paint as much as possible on a damp surface. With a very soft brush, pass a 
wash of clear water over the whole space to be occupied by the drawing, and 
then take up the moisture on the surface with blotting-paper (this operation may 
with advantage be repeated from time to time during the progress of the drawing, 
but of course every part must be perfectly dry first). 

Daylight Skies. —For daylight skies, without clouds, prepare a tint in your saucer 
to imitate the colour seen in the upper portion of the sky—say, cobalt with a trace 
of rose madder—and Jay it on fearlessly but carefully, adding more and more water 
to the wash with each sweep of the brush and, if necessary, a little grey or other 
colour as you approach and pass the horizon, and gradate your tint away 
to nothing over the distance and middle distance. If, when this is done, the tint 
does not seem strong enough, let it get dry (employing yourself meanwhile in 
bringing forward the foreground or other part of the drawing which does not cross 
the sky). When the first wash for the sky is quite dry, damp the paper again, use 
the blotting-paper, and proceed as before, altering the tint a little, or not, as seems 
advisable, until you get the right tone-colour and gradation. If the horizon is of a 
golden colour, you must gradate your blue and grey away to pure water at or 
above the horizon, and then when it is dry turn your sketch upside down, and after 
damping the paper gradate a wash of yellow ochre, or yellow ochre with a little 
brown madder, from below the distance away to nothing over the pale portion of the 
sky. You will thus get a very natural gradation of tone and colour with a soft 
aerial character. 

Colours for Skies — Daylight. —The palette for daylight skies is a simple one. 
The following colours will be sufficient: 

Cobalt, French ultramarine, rose madder, purple madder, light red, and 
yellow ochre. 

In general pure cobalt is too cold. It needs a trace of red, rose madder, 
purple madder, or light red to warm it. For brilliantly blue skies a thin wash of 
French ultramarine may be passed over a first tint of cobalt and rose madder. 
The mixture of cobalt and light red affords very useful pearly greys. The yellow 
ochre is chiefly useful when a golden mist, suffused by the sun’s rays, overhangs 
the horizon. If it should chance that the preparatory tint is found to be too strong 
and hot, a little Chinese white added to the sky colour will recover the right 
coolness of tint, and give a charming aerial effect. 

Twilight. —For twilight skies indigo may be added to the above colours or their 
combinations for the upper portion of the sky. Near the horizon the colours may 
be chosen from the list given below for sunset, care being taken to keep them 
somewhat sombre and full of tone. 

Sunset. —In the upper portion of the sky the blues and greys already given will 
serve. Near the sun the most brilliant colours may often be needed. They may 
be chosen from the following list, which will, I think, meet every requirement:— 
Yellow ochre, Indian yellow, cadmium, light red, Indian red, rose madder, purple 
madder. 

Vermilions (orange and scarlet) may be added, but they are opaque and 
rather unmanageable ; still, they afford good foundations for subsequent glazings of 




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THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


the transparent colours. Cadmium is a most brilliant colour and works well. 
When dry it may be glazed with rose madder. This will give a luminous rosy 
orange, not to be excelled in brilliance by any other means. The combinations of 
yellow ochre with light red and with Indian red, cadmium with Indian red, and 
Indian red with rose madder, are all useful. Indeed, each of the above colours 
may be used with any other, either in mixture or in glazing, to imitate the various 
tints seen in the sunset sky. 

Sunrise .—For sunrise most of the above colours may be needed, but there will 
generally be found a greater prevalence of grey and more mistiness of effect. 

Repetition of Sky Ti?iis .—If in your drawing there is to be calm water reflecting 
the sky, it will be well to paint it in at the same time and with the same tints as 
those of the sky itself, or rather of that portion of it which is reflected in the pool. 
Even wet or moist ground will reflect more or less of the sky tints. 

Clouds .—Observe that clouds are rounded masses of vapour, having light and 
shadow, sides and varieties of modelling in as large a degree as any solid object. 
They recede from the eye in a true perspective. At the same time there is a 
softness and delicacy in the shadowing of these vaporous forms which will tax 
all your dexterity to imitate. In endeavouring to give the full form and shadow of 
masses of cloud, do not get the tones so heavy, or the details so obtrusive, as 
to overbalance the rest of the composition; better even to leave the cloud forms 
sketchy and suggestive than to lose the relative values of sky and ground. 

Execution .—Work on the clouds while they are wet, or use the washes of colour 
so thin that you can scarcely perceive each added tint of shade as you put it on the 
paper. Keep the idea of form ever before you in each successive wash. From 
time to time let the painting become quite dry, and then, with a soft brush and 
clear water, gently wash and blend together the shadows. Small light clouds may 
be taken out by any one of the methods already described; but all large forms 
of light clouds should be left in laying in the blue of the sky and worked up 
afterwards. These directions apply only to drawings which are intended to receive 
high finish. In sketching from Nature rapidly for effect and character (a practice 
which you should by no means omit), a few very wet blots of colour, skilfully 
spread over the sky and dexterously run together here and dried off there with 
the sponge, or a handkerchief wrapped round the finger, reinforced in the shadows 
with full colour applied with the point of the brush and cleared up in the lights 
by a vigorous use of clean water, will often in a few minutes give you the effect 
you want at small expense of manual, but great expense of mental labour. 

Method of Study .—Clouds are so changeable, never remaining even for two 
or three minutes precisely the same, that you cannot sit down to copy them 
deliberately, as you would a tree or a bank. The preferable plan is to decide upon 
their general form and the space they are to occupy in the picture, and then to 
bend the whole force of your powers of observation upon them until you have filled 
your mind and memory with their form and construction, their swing of motion, the 
way they are piled up or scattered abroad over the heavens, and especially the 
way in which they sway all together under the common impulse of the airs which 
urge them along. Then turn to your paper and try to reproduce the impression 
created in your mind. If you have forgotten anything, a glance at a similar cloud 
may serve to recall it to your mind; but do not alter a scheme once decided on. 

Study cloud-forms often for their own sake, using sometimes the point to 




ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS . 


2 J 9 


secure the outlines, and sometimes soft chalk or the brush to seize upon the 
gradations of tone. Thus you will acquire readiness of comprehension and facility 
of execution. 

Colours for Clouds .—For soft and distant clouds use light red and cobalt; for 
more stormy, lowering clouds substitute Indian red or light red, or use brown 
madder or purple madder with cobalt or French ultramarine. A little yellow 
ochre maybe added to these tints if required. The proportions of blue to russet red 
or purple must, of course, be varied, as the clouds are seen to be warm or cool in 
their general colour. For cold grey tones use cobalt or French blue with lamp 
black, and, for variety, try the effect of a little sepia in conjunction with these, or 
add a little light red to the cobalt and black. This last will give a very clear, cool, 
pearly grey. For the warm edges of clouds try brown madder and yellow ochre, 
or light red and yellow ochre, or pure yellow ochre. These must all be used in 
very thin, delicate washes. Indigo is often recommended to replace the other 
blues in the above list, but it should, I think, be used very sparingly. 

For sunset clouds you may tax the resources of your colour-box to the utmost 
for bright pigments; but remember two things—first, that the space occupied by 
purest, brightest colour should be small, and should be led up to by more broken 
tints; also that the force of contrast, both of tone anti colour, will do more than 
any mere brightness of paint to give a brilliant effect; and, secondly, note that a 
glazing of one colour over another when the first is dry is much more effectual in 
the production of pure luminous colour than any admixture of the component 
colours; also that a foundation of Chinese white, laid on thickly, will cause many 
colours to ‘ bear out ’ brightly which would otherwise sink, and become dull as they 
dried. 

Extreme , or Third Distance .—It now becomes very difficult to give you much 
definite advice, because the range of subjects which may go to form your distance, 
middle distance, or foreground is so vast, and the conditions under which they may 
be seen are so varied, that no set of rules, however ingeniously or laboriously 
devised, could meet all the cases which might arise, and advice which might help 
you in one set of circumstances would mislead you in another. But there are some 
general considerations which you may profitably bear in mind. The most im¬ 
portant of these is the effect of the atmosphere, which causes objects at a distance 
to diminish in force of tone and colour in proportion as they recede. The 
atmosphere, in effect, gives much of its own grey, or bluish-grey, colour to the 
distance, which must be painted with a prevalence of delicate greys and blues and 
greyish greens, or, in the lights, with golden tones, subdued but not sullied. This 
is the general rule, which particular conditions will sometimes seem to contradict, 
as when, for example, a passage of strong light in the distance brings out brightly 
all the local colours, while the nearer portions of the landscape are obscured by 
shade. It is only seejning> however; for, if you wait until the light pervades the 
view, the distant colours will be seen still to be very grey and subdued when com¬ 
pared with those nearer to you, and you may, therefore, produce the same effect 
in Nature’s own way by painting the distant colours with their true complement of 
delicacy and greyness, and then throwing them up by the tone and neutrality of 
colour which you saw cast by shadow over the foreground. Still, as the materials 
under your hand are weak to express the brightness of vigour and Nature, I do not 
deny that it may be expedient in such a case to force up a little the vividness of 




240 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


the distance. This may be done, as the picture approaches completion, by thin 
glazings of the more positive colours wherever they are seen. 

But there is another rule which you may adopt, as I believe, without admitting 
any exception, and this is that there should be an entire absence of hard cutting 
lines, harsh contrasts, and crudity of handling in the distance. The line which 
separates the distance from the sky may be and often is the strongest in the picture, 
but it is never a hard line ; therefore whatever depth of tone you require in the 
distance must be gained by repeated thin washes, or by adding colour on a damp 
surface delicately with the point of the brush, letting it spread of itself and dry 
softly at the edges. You may also recur now and then to the operation recom¬ 
mended above for sky and clouds, of passing a wash of clear water with a soft 
brush over the distance when it is dry, and then reinforce the tones while the paper 
is still somewhat moist. 

Execution .—As for the mode of execution you will do well, while your sky is 
drying (if you have decided to put in that portion of the picture first), to blot in 
thinly the shadows of the distance with your cool sky colour. The under tone of 
yellow ochre and brown madder, or whatever else you may have used, will serve, 
at any rate for the present, for the lights. When this is dry you may go over it 
again with the same tints, adding each time more detail and, consequently, using 
smaller washes and bringing out the drawing and modelling of the masses. Lastly, 
you should paint in the local tints, where they are visible, with thin glazings of 
transparent or semi-transparent colours, or by hatching and interlacing small 
touches of suitable colour. 

Colours for Distajice. —As you need in the distance to use many washes one over 
the other, it is well to select, as much as possible, colours which do not easily wash 
up under the repeated action of the brush. Those which possess this quality in the 
highest degree are, among blues, cobalt (indigo, too, is very firm, but should be 
used sparingly in the distance, except sometimes for greys) ; among yellows the 
best in this respect are, yellow ochre, gamboge, Indian yellow and cadmium ; and 
among reds and russets, light red and the various madders are best. Indian yellow 
and cadmium are, however, very powerful colours, and must be used with 
caution. 

A fine range of greyish colours. may be formed by the mixture, in varying 
proportions, of cobalt, madder lake, and gamboge, and a combination most widely 
useful in this part of a landscape is cobalt, yellow ochre, and light red. These 
colours may be made to vary from a sober green to a mild purple, and no depth of 
tone to be got from their use will be found irredeemably heavy. A little Naples 
yellow is often very useful in the distance for telling lights. Cobalt with brown 
madder or purple madder is good for shade. So, for cold tones, is French blue and 
lamp black. A little rose madder may be added to the last to warm it. A little 
sepia added to cobalt and brown madder also forms a useful combination. For 
thin glazings over any of these colours may be used raw sienna, burnt sienna, 
gamboge, gamboge with either brown madder or Vandyke brown, Indian yellow. 

Middle Distance. —As you reach the middle distance and approach the fore¬ 
ground the colours become more vivid and the expression of form and detail 
clearer, but they still*fall far short of the strength (not always important) to be 
reserved for the foreground. 

The middle distance is often most beautiful and suggestive. Often it is the 




ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLO URS. 


241 


motive of the picture: the main point of interest, to which foreground, sky, and 
distance are subordinate, and the importance of which they are designed to lead up 
to and enhance. 

For the reasons already advanced, it is increasingly difficult to give detailed 
instruction respecting this portion of the work. 

Execution. —The washes may be laid on less thinly, the colour may be fuller and 
more positive : but remember that the atmosphere still lies like a veil between you 
and the objects you are copying. There must still be no harshness of treatment. 
You may with advantage run the colours together at their edges while they are wet, 
a plan often productive of happy accidental effects and always tending to softness 
and harmony. It should be employed throughout the picture in foreground, 
distance and sky, as well as here. In the finishing you can always recover sufficient 
definition by putting in and taking out small sharp touches when they are seen. 
The glazings of local colour may now be stronger and more vivid, but they must 
still not obtrude. The beauty of the middle distance depends more on harmony 
and variety of tone and a soft richness of colour than upon bright tints and minute 
details. 

Colour. —For colours you may use those already given for the distance, making 
the washes a little stronger. Add a little indigo to your cobalt in mixing the 
greens, or you may even use Antwerp or Prussian blue instead, with the yellows, if 
you break the rawness of the resulting greens by the addition of some orange or 
russet, such as burnt sienna or madder brown. Buildings in the middle distance 
should receive a not inconsiderable amount of finish, but the colours used should, 
for the most part, whatever they may be, be broken slightly by the admixture of a 
small portion of some complementary colour. 

You may now add to your palette, to be used as occasion seems to demand, 
such colours as brown pink, Italian pink, and lemon yellow. Terra verte, too, is a 
most useful colour in middle distance, though rather pasty in the working. Such 
mixed colours as olive green and Hooker’s green may be used to save time and 
trouble. 

Foreground. —Your studies of individual objects, or groups of objects, which at 
the commencement of this chapter I recommended you to make, will have 
prepared you for the efficient treatment of foreground forms. The characteristics 
of a foreground are well put in the following passage from Mr. Penley’s handbook, 
a work to which I have already referred: ‘ Everything we can name will come 
under the denomination of a foreground object, so that some little experience is 
necessary to its successful introduction and treatment. Too servile an imitation of 
each individual part is sure to lead to “ littleness ” of style, and the object, by being 
thus obtrusive, will destroy the breadth of the picture. Character in this, as well as 
in foliage, is the principal end to which our efforts must be directed. The great 
charm in foreground painting lies in brilliancy without crudity; in force, without 
violent contrasts; in a beautiful disposition of lines, and a perfect adaptation of 
this to the other portions of the work.’ 

Execution. —In foregrounds, as elsewhere, get in the masses first, showing their 
light and shade broadly. Upon this foundation you can afterwards touch in crisply 
the smaller detail, and take out small bright lights. 

Colours. —There is scarcely any colour, or combination of colours, which may 
not be useful in foregrounds, and the list is too long for repetition. Generally, 

R 




242 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


however, you should use the brighter, stronger colours, and use them rather more 
thickly 

Indigo will be found very useful in mixing greens for the foreground, and so will 
Antwerp and Prussian blue, but these last will nearly always need a trace of some 
such colour as burnt sienna or madder brown (either in mixture, or introduced 
afterwards in glazings or hatchings) to break the rawness of a pure blue and 
yellow. 

I append a few among many useful combinations for foreground greens :— 

Indigo and gamboge. 

„ „ Indian yellow. 

„ „ Indian yellow with burnt sienna. 

„ „ raw sienna. 

„ „ brown pink. 

„ „ brown pink with olive green. 

„ „ burnt sienna. 

„ „ brown madder and gamboge. 

By substituting Antwerp blue for indigo in the above list more vivid greens will 
be produced, and any of these may afterwards be glazed with warm transparent 
colours, if necessary. 

For the pure clear green of expanses of young grass in shadow, use gamboge 
with a little Antwerp blue or cobalt, and for the same in sunlight use gamboge or 
gamboge with a little Indian yellow. 

French blue with yellow ochre gives a rather opaque green often needed. 
Gamboge with sepia is useful. 

For the cold lights on the upper sides of leaves try— 

Cobalt with emerald green, 

„ „ rose madder, 

„ „ Naples yellow, 

Indigo with rose madder, 
or Antwerp blue with rose madder. 

You should note that cobalt when used largely in or near the foreground gives a 
certain opacity. This is not always, however, a disadvantage. 

For Earthy Banks or Roads .—You will find yellow ochre a very valuable colour. 
It may be used alone or combined with Vandyke brown (this is very useful) or with 
light red or with burnt sienna. Light red and lamp-black are useful, and a little 
cobalt may be added to any of the above for cooler tones. For shadows you may 
try Indigo with light red or Indian red : French blue with brown madder or with 
burnt sienna: sepia with brown or purple madder, and so on. 

For Buildings .—The same colours will be found useful, and raw and burnt 
umber may with advantage be added to the palette, both for buildings and banks and 
roads. These last colours may be used alone, or (for cold tones or shadows) with 
the blues or black. 

Trees .—If you have studied individual trees and their parts, as I advised you at 
the beginning of this chapter, you will find no difficulty in painting them in the 
foreground or middle distance of your landscape. Of colours, both for foliage and 







ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


243 


for trunk and branches, you will possess a good store when you have worked out 
and made yourself familiar with the various combinations given above. 

The main points to be observed in drawing and painting trees are :— 

(1) The shape of the mass. 

(2) The number and radiation of the main branches, with particular attention 
to the drawing of those which are foreshortened towards you or away from you. 

(3) The character of the terminal branches and leaves. 

(4) The character (general form and arrangement of markings) of the trunk 
and bark. 

(5) The colour of the foliage, noting whether there is any difference between 
the upper and under side of the leaves. 

(6) The colours of the bark and of the mosses and lichens (if any) 
upon it. 

(7) The value of the general tones of the tree, or group of trees, as compared 
with the other tones in the picture. 

Water. —I have already said a word to you about calm water. In running 
water you must use every effort, by patient observation of the set and swing of the 
curves and ripples, to convey the sense of motion. For colour, the edges of ripples 
will catch the light and colour from the sky, and their hollows will reflect the banks, . 
the overhanging branches, and so on, and must be painted with the tints used for 
these. Here and there you may see the colour of the bottom, and that, too, must 
be imitated with as much drawing of the underlying forms, whether of pebble, rock, 
weed, or what not, as you can clearly perceive. Often the water will have a colour 
of its own. When this is so, bring forward the forms and tones until they approach 
the appearance of Nature, and the colours of the objects reflected. Then pass over 
all, from bank to bank, a thin wash of a colour similar to that of the water. The 
brighter lights can be taken out afterwards, and spray and foam may effectively be 
given by a dexterous use of the penknife. Do not be deceived, as you may well be 
at first, as to the amount of tone to be seen in water. To satisfy yourself on this 
point, set a bit of white paper to float down the stream, and watch it and make 
careful comparison as it sails over the lights, shadows and reflections. Hardly any 
of the lights will be as bright as the paper. 

There are many other things which I desired to say to you, but this section has 
already extended far too great a length, and I must leave you now to the exevcise 
of your own judgment and ingenuity. One caution, however, I have reserved to the 
last, that you may be the less likely to forget it. Do not be misled by these 
arbitrary divisions of foreground, middle distance, third distance, and so on, into 
putting together your picture like the pieces of a puzzle. You must look upon tne 
scene you may have chosen to depict as one consistent whole , and your paramount 
object must be to reproduce the impression created in your mind by the contemplation of 
that scene as a whole. 


Before bidding my readers farewell and good speed, I desire to say a few words 
on composition ; a large subject, which can only receive here a very inadequate and 
simply suggestive treatment. 

Composition, in its more restricted sense, deals with those laws of arrangement 
which bind the various parts of a picture into one organic whole, in which each line, 

r 2 




244 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


each tone, and each colour exercises a favourable influence, more or less direct, upon 
all the rest, from which nothing could be taken without occasioning a sense of loss 
and deterioration, to which nothing could be added without redundancy. 

Taken in its higher sense, composition is intimately connected with the ethics of 
Art, and with the poetry of Art. In this sense it is the measure of the genius of 
the artist; and, inasmuch as poeta nascitur ?io?i fit , so the great composer possesses 
intuitively, or by the gift of God, his power of composition. We may admire and 
appreciate and understand his work, and in so doing shall be elevated by it; we 
may even arrive at a comprehension of the methods by which the result is 
attained; but when a study of the laws of prosody has sufficed to make a poet, then, 
and not until then, will a study of the laws of composition suffice to make a great 
composer. 

Indeed, the rules of arrangement, or, to use the bigger word, composition , which I 
shall endeavour to outline for your guidance, bear much the same relation to a fine 
picture as the rules of prosody do to a noble poem; though they are not of the 
essence of the finest qualities in any work of art, yet their non-observance is an 
almost fatal blemish. To the unambitious but pleasant and profitable work which 
I presume to be the aim of most of you, the comprehension and judicious applica¬ 
tion of these rules will give an additional value; but I would warn you to use the 
greatest judgment in consciously applying them as yet, though it is certainly well 
that you should know them. In your best work, when it is finished, I hope you 
will find many an example of their successful application; but you should, I think, 
rather find them in the Nature that you are copying than forcibly import them into 
your representation, lest you make an unprofitable exchange of simplicity and truth 
for the artificiality of the school and the studio. By seeking them in Nature 
honestly and without after-thought, you will insensibly be led to a comprehension of 
her deeper meanings, but by wresting them to your own purposes you will only 
succeed in giving the dead framework, the dry bones of Art, without the living 
grace and, so to speak, the soul of the scene. 

The first of these laws to be considered is that of Prmcipality. Mr. Ruskin, in 
his Elei7ie?its of Drawing , from which I have ventured to borrow in part the order 
in which these rules are set out, and in part their nomenclature, says : ‘ The great 
object of composition being always to secure unity, that is, to make out of many 
things one whole, the first mode in which this can be effected is by determining 
that one feature shall be more important than all the rest, and that the others shall 
group with it in subordinate positions.’ 

It is not, however, necessary, nor is it well, that this * one feature ’ should 
overpower the others by too obtrusive a prominence. It should be the consti¬ 
tutional monarch, not the despotic tyrant of the composition. And you are not for 
a moment to imagine that the other constituent parts of the picture are not, each in 
its place, essential to its well-being. They are so, but this is the key-note; this 
rules, with however gentle a sway; this governs, however modestly, the whole 
composition. 

Next in a finely composed picture the eye will be led onwards insensibly from 
this starting-point through the subordinate divisions in an orderly sequence, just as, 
in a finely composed piece of music, the ear follows the motive through all its 
woven intricacies of harmonious variety to the end, and recognises a rounded and 
perfect whole where each note and each phrase bears its part and has its value, and 



ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS. 


245 


where no part, however small, could be spared without impairing the general 
effect. 

Now in the laws of Repetition and of Continuity we find two methods by which 
this relationship and interdependence of the various parts of a picture may be 
suggested; and the first of these is a very favourite method with the best artists. 

It consists of a repetition in a descending scale, not of identical but of similar 
forms and effects. Thus, if we suppose, for example, that the leading effect is a 
ruined tower standing out against the sky, this might find its form repeated in a 
group of poplars in the middle distance, and these their reduplication in a far-off 
village church. Observe, however, that in the best pictures the symmetry of such 
arrangements is never too obvious or too accurate. That, indeed, is an error into, 
which those who follow Nature reverently, in place of disturbing her audaciously, 
are in no danger of falling. 

The second mode by which this end may be attained is by the suggestion of 
Continuity of similar forms bound together by the nature of their growth or 
construction. 

Thus the eye is led on by the receding succession of waves breaking on a 
shelving shore. Here they may, perhaps, be thrown back by a projecting groyn, 
there they may spread smoothly on an expanse of sand, but they all evidently obey 
the impulse of a common origin; and while the mind in contemplating them is 
pleasantly conscious of the accidental departures from a too rigid uniformity, it is 
none the less, but rather, perhaps, the more, strongly influenced by the feeling of 
continuity—of unity in variety—expressed by gradual growth of change in the size 
and in the apparent force of the waves as they recede from the eye, and lead it 
onwards into the picture. A similar appearance may be noted in the strata of 
clouds, or in the arches of a bridge receding in perspective, or in the columns • f 
some cathedral aisle. 

Next in most pleasing landscapes you will find a balance of lines which are 
opposed in direction, so that if, on one side of the picture, a line slopes 
downwards from left to right, you will be pretty sure to find somewhere on the other 
side a line sloping downwards from right to left, and so on, with a rhythmical 
interlacing of corresponding forms ; but note once more that this is never by way of 
accurate symmetry, but by a delicate suggestion rather than an assertion of harmony 
in opposition. And you will find, moreover, that sets of lines in a well-chosen 
landscape will often seem to radiate from a common centre, whether from the 
effects of retreating parallel forms seen in perspective, as is so often the case in a fleecy 
cloudy sky, or from the influence of a common origin, as is seen in the branches of 
a well-grown tree. All such arrangements are eminently suggestive of that unity 
which is the end and aim of good composition, a unity which in these cases springs 
from the manifestation of a common origin or a common cause. 

The principles which guide the grouping of lines into such dispositions as those 
spoken of in the above paragraph may, for the aid of your memory, be included 
under the head of a law of Radiation . 

But the qualities of unity and consistency which underlie every good composition 
must not degenerate into monotony. To avoid this fault another element of effect 
must often be employed, one which is, indeed, indispensable where strength and 
emphasis are desired. 1 speak of contrast. 

To the influence of the law of contrast may be traced almost all that is vigorous 



246 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


and striking in composition. A bright light is, as I have already several times 
pointed out, set off and made still brighter by the opposition of a strong dark in its 
vicinity; and the light itself reacts upon its neighbouring dark, making it still more 
forcible. Thus each mutually enhances the value of the other. 

So again a curved form may be contrasted by an angular one with similar 
results, a rugged form by a graceful one, strength by weakness, simplicity by 
complexity, and so on. But in proportion to the usefulness of the device is the 
temptation to abuse it. It is ever to be used with the strictest reticence ; and if in 
Nature or in Art you meet with a scene where harsh contrasts prevail, I trust your 
artistic instinct will be sufficiently strong and cultivated to prevent you from 
admiring indiscreetly. 

Contrast is very usefully employed when it is spread unobtrusively through the 
picture, combining the principle of repetition with that of opposition ; carrying, 
for example, small portions of the darks among the broad masses of light, and 
fragments of light into the darks, thus exemplifying another rule of composition— 
that of interchange. This is a principle which may be employed with special 
advantage and pleasantness in your management of colours. 

In illustration of this law I will copy for you a portion of what Mr. Ruskin says 
in his Elements of Drawing on this subject: ‘ If you divide a shield into two 

masses of colour all the way down—suppose blue and white—and put a bar or 
figure of an animal partly on one division, partly on the other, you will find it 
pleasant to the eye if you make the part of the animal blue which comes upon the 
white half, and white which comes upon the blue half.’ 

One of the most curious facts which will impress itself upon you when you have 
drawn some time carefully from Nature, in light and shade, is the appearance of 
intentional artifice with which contrasts of this alternate kind are produced by her. 
The artistry with which she will darken a tree trunk, as long as it comes against 
light sky, and throw sunlight on it precisely at the spot where it comes against a 
dark hill, and similarly treat all her masses of shade and colour, is so great that if 
you only follow her closely, everyone who looks at your drawing with attention will 
think that you have been inventing the most artificially and unnaturally delightful 
interchanges of shadow that could possibly be devised by human wit. 

Two principles of composition yet remain to be mentioned: breadth and 
harmony. These are even less tangible and less expressible by the somewhat 
clumsy machinery of written words than the rest. I shall endeavour to give you a 
hint of the meaning of the terms, and will leave you to search out the nature of the 
things in works of art and in the book of Nature. 

Breadth, then, is that quality in a picture which results from the massing or 
subordination of discordant details. It eschews strong contrasts; it brings together 
in gently graduated masses the darks on the one hand, and the lights on the other; 
or it inspires the whole picture with one prevailing sentiment, as of tenderness or of 
grandeur, of sadness or of cheerfulness ; and this by an assemblage and compilation 
of sympathetic elements, relieved by at most one or two points of contrast, and these 
not strongly accentuated. And even where this breadth does not pervade the 
whole picture, it should at least prevail in the principal masses or divisions, so that, 
the main purpose of the picture being enunciated in its grand divisions, the force of 
such enunciations may not be frittered away by a frivolous repetition or a super¬ 
abundance of distracting detail. 




ON PAINTING IN WATER-COLOURS . 


247 


Harmony consists, in part, in a truthful relationship between the tones of a 
picture, so that all have the precise relative value which they possess in Nature ; in 
part it belongs also to a consistent treatment. For, if one part of a picture be 
drawn or painted strongly and energetically, and another part timorously and with 
indecision, the whole will surely be inharmonious; or, again, if, tor example, a 
sentiment of repose is intended to prevail, then an incident expressive of violent 
action (unless, indeed, it is introduced judiciously, and with due subordination, as a 
contrast, to enhance the effect) will inevitably throw the picture out of harmony of 
feeling. Lastly, harmony results from nothing so much as from a clear and com¬ 
plete conception, from the first, of the aim of the work, together with a thorough 
knowledge of the means most proper to attain the end proposed. 



These hints on the principles of composition, brief and incomplete as they are, 
will yet, I hope, to some extent direct you as to a few of the qualities, most of which 
may be sought and found in every fine work of art. 

Now it may occur to you, and naturally, to walk through one of our great 
galleries, if there is one within your reach, or to look studiously at such reproductions 
of noble works of art as may be at your command, in order to trace the occurrence 
of examples of these principles; and it is likely enough that the immediate result of 
such a course may be to cause you much bewilderment and disappointment: for 
although these rules are of the widest application, and examples of their applica¬ 
tion occur, as I have said, in all the best work of the masters, yet their influence is 
often so skilfully disguised on the ‘ celare artem * 1 principle that it is difficult of 
detection by theunt rained eye. Indeed, those pictures in which the employment of 

1 Ars est artem celare —the art lies in the concealment of the artifice. 



































248 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


these principles is at once manifest are never those which grow upon us, as the 
saying runs, and win our lasting approval. 

Space fails me to analyse, as I had wished and intended, one, or perhaps two. 
well-known pictures, and to trace in them the occurrence of these laws of com¬ 
position ; but if you have read care¬ 
fully and intelligently, I think I can 
trust to your ingenuity to supply the 
omission. 

Even in the illustrations to this 
part, rough as they are—the first and 
last mere ‘ impressions,’ rapidly drawn 
under unfavourable circumstances 
in pen and ink—and another kindly 
lent by Mr. Blackburn, from his 
illustrated catalogue of the National 
Gallery—the action of the laws of 
arrangement set forth above may be 
traced. In Fig. 1, Greenwich Hos¬ 
pital, from the Liber - Studiorum 
Series, ‘ principality’ and ‘repetition’ 

will at once be noticed, and in the original y° u ma y see, if you can get access 
to it (it hangs in a room in the basement °f ^ National Gallery), some of 



Fig. 3. 


the qualities grouped under the head of ‘ law of radiation.’ Contrast and inter¬ 
change are made to contribute subordinately to the general effect, and the whole is 
finely harmonised. 

In the second illustration, from the picture ‘Showery Weather,’ by F. R. Lee, R.A., 



Fig. 2.—Showery Weather. 



































































ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS . 


249 


contrast is boldly employed, and the lines of the landscape cross and recross in 
well-balanced opposition, their rhythm just relieved by the faint flat line of the 
horizon. They seem, too, to radiate from the cart and horses, and so serve to lead 
the eye up to the point of greatest interest. Breadth is a striking characteristic of 
this picture; breadth of light in the sky; breadth of shade on the landscape, 
harmonised and brought together by the delicate tones of the distance. No. 3 
resembles this last. The motive is not dissimilar. A broad mass of dark castle 
thrown up in vigorous contrast against the clearest portion of a gently gradated 
sky. The minor incidents of the picture (which I fear cannot be traced in the 
illustration) are admirably designed to relieve, without detracting from the grand 
simplicity of the main idea. Several of the ‘ laws ’ are here well exemplified. 

As I prepare, not without regret, to write the last words which I am now to 
address to you, my mind turns to the sentences with which I opened these in¬ 
structions, and I reflect with satisfaction that in following the course which I have 
marked out for you it can scarcely be but that you have found some measure of 
pleasure and of profit, and that the purpose of honest self-culture which you then 
proposed to yourself as one of the ends of your study must surely, in some degree, 
have been served. 

For the pure and simple pleasures which arise from the contemplation of Nature 
by an eye and mind trained to close observation and ready sympathy with her 
moods, cannot fail to refine the taste, to fill the memory with a store of lovely 
images and recollections, and to attune the heart to all tender and chaste emotions. 

But chief in value among the lessons you will have learned is that which has, I 
trust, made for you a living active reality, to bear fruits in every phase of your life, 
of the conviction that in Nature and Art, and not less in every moral and aesthetic 
system of which the human mind takes cognisance, the true and the beautiful are 
ever one. 

[You will wonder, perhaps, that I have said nothing to you about perspective. Well, 
if you have a taste for abstract rules, you may get a treatise on the subject: one may be 
had at a very cheap rate, and, if you find the subject easy and interesting, you will, I 
think, get some good out of it ; but, if you find any serious difficulty in comprehending 
the rules and methods sought to be explained, you may lay it aside and trust to the 
training of your eye and the obedience of your hand to get your drawings into perspective. 
Perspective is, I imagine, of practical importance to architects and engineers : to you in 
your sketching it is chiefly useful in explaining the reasons of certain appearances, which 
may puzzle you at first, but which it will not harm you to take upon trust.] 


ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS. 

By John C. Staples. 

In putting together a few directions on painting in oils, I must take leave to 
assume that you, my readers, have made a sufficient progress in those initial stages 
on the high road of art to enable you, let us say, for example, to put your brush 
on the right spot and to carry it the right distance in the right direction when you 
want to give the ridge of a cottage roof, or the trunk of the tree that stands beside it, 






Oil Painting, 

























































































































































ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS. 


or the flight of irregular steps that run up to the half-open door. If you cannot do 
this, you had better go back and read the preceding section and draw diligently; 
for, speaking generally, the knowledge and the craftsmanship which you may thus gain 
are indispensable as a preliminary to painting, although much that you learn to do with 
the point in drawing you must afterwards forget to do with the brush in painting. 

This part of the task before you needs only ordinary industry and intelligence, 
for drawing, as we understand it in common parlance, can as surely be acquired as 
can a legible handwriting. So, too, though this is more difficult and is a point less 
often insisted on, the eye can be taught to see truthfully. Now, these two acquire¬ 
ments may, as a matter of illustration, very well stand for facility in writing and 
reading in the sister art of literature; but I want you to understand at the outset 
that when you have the command of pencil and brush that I speak of, and the 
faculty of seeing things as they appear, you are yet no nearer painting a picture 
which shall have a real and permanent value, or be worth to others the pains it 
costs you to produce, than your brother who writes and reads well is to producing a 
book which will live. 

If you ever paint a picture worth the name, it will be, not because you have 
learned to draw and paint, though you will have to do that somehow, but because 
you love Nature, and have lived with her and have studied her, as you study the 
face of the friend who is dearest to you, to catch the meaning of each fleeting ex¬ 
pression and dwell upon the beauty of each curved line and soft shadow. 

I have begun by addressing you in a serious vein, and holding up a high 
standard, because oil-painting, with how much justice I cannot now stay to decide, 
has always been looked upon popularly as a more serious branch of art than water¬ 
colour drawing; and if you are reading this chapter it is, I presume, because you have 
a serious desire to paint pictures. But there is a good deal of fun to be got out of 
painting, too, and the more you are impelled to approach your painting in the 
same spirit in which you approach your lawn tennis, taking, that is to say, the same 
sort of pleasure in dexterously laying on a tint of the right value in the right place 
that you would feel in cleverly returning a ball just where your opponent could not 
reach it—the same pleasure in finishing and carrying off a successful sketch from 
Nature that you feel in winning a sett—the more you are likely to make good studies 
and eventually to paint good pictures ; for Nature loves to be approached in a joyous 
spirit. If this is your feeling for the task which you have set yourself, and if you 
have steadfastness and perseverance, then there is some hope for you, and you may 
—nay, I venture confidently to promise you that you will—do work which will be a 
lasting joy to others as well as to yourself. 

But even if you fall short of the higher standard, you can scarcely fail to attain 
to a close and intelligent and appreciative knowledge and enjoyment of the works 
of the great artists of all time; so that your capacity for refined pleasure will be 
vastly increased, and life will be both the brighter and the better for you in 
consequence. 

You wish, then, to know howto paint in oils. Well, it is to be done by painting, 
and going on painting, and beginning to-morrow to paint again. Paint anything 
that you think pretty—anything that you admire. I cannot tell you what to admire, 
for this is not an essay on taste; but you must just paint what you do admire. Go on 
painting until you are disgusted with your work, and then go back to your drawing 
until the desire to paint returns. 




252 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK ,. 


I say this to impress upon your minds that, by comparison with work—with 
persevering practice—rules and precise instructions and definitions of ‘ glazing * 
and the ‘ impasto ’ and ‘ scumbling * and the like (terms useful, chiefly, to the Art 
critic who desires to make a show of knowledge) are of the smallest avail. 

If you desire strongly to reproduce a scene which has fascinated you, and if you 
are courageous, you will dash away and give something that will have a value 
other than can be found in the work of those who paint by rule, though it will lack 
much that their work possesses. Nevertheless, it may have a freshness and an 
individuality which will atone to some extent for want of technical knowledge. 

Of course I do not lose sight of the fact that the best way, and the shortest, and 
the only thorough way to paint is to go through the schools and to acquire the 
technique of your art by conscientious labour under the eye of a master. 

But the fact of your sitting down to read this chapter is, I suppose, sufficient 
evidence that you have been unable to follow this course, and I wish you to know 
of a certainty that, though the former is the best, it is not the only way, and that, by 
following your instinct and the path to which your intelligence points, though you 
may and will miss much that the trained student finds ready to his hand, you may 
also give qualities to your work, such, for instance, as a certain frankness and 
naivete, which have a distinct and considerable value. 

The chief thing is to do. Do something as well as you can, and then forget it 
and do something else, and in the end you may do that which others will not 
forget. 

It is very possible that you are getting impatient for me to give you some definite 
hints as to how you should begin, and maybe this is natural enough; but I wish 
most heartily that I had power in my pen to make you understand that what I have 
been saying above is truly and honestly far more to the purpose—the purpose, that 
is, of showing you how to paint, than of anything that I can say to you about 
canvases, brushes, colours, and the mode of beginning a sketch. Far better for you 
would it be if, instead of—I had almost said—wasting your time in reading about 
‘charcoal sketches,’ and ‘drawing in,’ and ‘underpainting’ and the like, you would 
take the colours and the brushes, and, on any surface that presents itself, put down 
boldly but accurately, however roughly, a note of the scene which strikes you. 

Shall I tell you the truth about yourself? You want to know exactly how to 
do it, because you are afraid. Yet if you would succeed, you must throw fear to 
the winds. 

If you are too poor to waste some colours and canvases, you had better abandon 
your design, for waste them you must at first. Therefore, you had better waste 
them cheerfully, and get some fun out of the process. 

You are afraid of doing it wrong; but I assure you that you cannot do it right 
until you find out how; and you had better set to work at that at once. 

It is a characteristic of the amateur and the beginner to think a great deal of 
materials and tools. These do not really matter, except that, if you can afford it, 
you should have plenty of them, and spoil them in a fine, lavish, generous spirit; 
because it is the amount of work which you do that tells, the quantity of practice 
which you have that tends to make you perfect, and these will be—with slight 
allowances for difference of intelligence and aptitude—a pretty accurate measure of 
each aspirant’s progress. 

The thing done, the circumstances under which it is done, and the means 





ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS . 


253 


employed are by comparison of the smallest possible account. The quality of the 
canvas does not matter, for you are to cover it (indeed, common stiff brown paper 
is a capital material for sketches in oils; only your beginner would be sure to be 
dissatisfied with anything so cheap and so ready to his hand, and would think its 
valuable absorbent qualities and the dulness of the sketch when dry, grave drawbacks, 
which they are not) ; the brushes you use do not matter, for the best French-made 
1 hog tools ’ and ‘ sables ’ will at first be as unmanageable and disobedient in your 
hands as the cheapest and commonest bundles of bristles that you can buy; and 
the colours do not matter, for you need not yet trouble yourselves with questions of 
permanency and the like. 

There are a vast number of requisites, conveniences, and luxuries provided for 
the use and comfort of the painter, an illustrated list of which may be had for the 
asking from most of the better sort of artists’ colourmen ; I shall, however, confine 
myself here to a catalogue of the merest necessaries, leaving you to add, as you 
may feel the want of them and possess the means to purchase, such additional 
appliances as may seem desirable. 

I would advise you generally to try what you can do without, rather than multiply 
your possessions. A white linen sketching umbrella, for instance, is a great comfort 
at times; but there are many days and many places where it is superfluous, and few 
circumstances under which, with a little ingenuity, or a little endurance, it cannot be 
dispensed with. On the other hand, it has the drawback of adding greatly to the 
load you have to carry on sketching excursions. 

The indispensable requisites with which you must provide yourself for painting 
in oils are— 

Canvas, under which head we may place paper and pasteboard, whether prepared 
for the purpose or not, and panels of wood. 

Paints , including oils and mediums, and a box to contain these and the 
brushes. 

Brushes , with a little charcoal and perhaps a bit of black chalk, and lastly— 

A?i Easel, or a seat, or, perhaps, both; though if you have one of the French 
paint-boxes it will not be necessary for small pictures to take both, since, when 
seated,, with your paint-box on your knees, the lid forms a sufficient easel, and when, 
on the other hand, you take an easel you may stand to your work, and so avoid 
carrying the extra weight of your stool in your rambles in search of subjects. 

With respect to the canvas, which is the material most commonly used for 
sketches and painting in oil, there are several sorts sold, such as plain cloth, 
Roman cloth, and ticken. The first has the texture of common linen cloth, the 
second has a more pronounced and peculiar texture, and the third has a diagonal 
ribbed texture. These are all prepared in different ways with size and white lead 
or paint, so as to render the substance of the cloth less absorbent, and the surface 
more or less smooth. For my own part, of the canvases sold in shops, I prefer the 
plain cloth prepared in the manner known as ‘ half-primed.’ 

Any ordinary linen-cloth may be prepared for painting on, in the following 
manner:—Strain your material by tacking it at the edges on some flat surface, or 
straining it over the usual wedged wooden frames on which the prepared canvas is 
commonly sold in the shops, and, having procured some painter’s size and melted it 
with about its own weight of water in a saucepan or gallipot, take a large hog’s-hair 
paint-brush and wet your cloth all over evenly and thoroughly with the hot size. 







































































































ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS. 


-55 


When this application is quite dry, take some white-lead (both the size and the 
white-lead are quite cheap) and mix it thoroughly in a gallipot or saucer with sufficient 
spirits of turpentine, commonly called ‘ turps,’ to bring it to the consistency of rather 
thin cream ; and having added a dash of raw umber, or yellow ochre and black, or any 
other tint that pleases your fancy, just enough to qualify the raw whiteness of the 
white-lead, take your brush, and, as before, lay on the mixture evenly and smoothly 
all over the sized surface. When quite dry, your canvas is ready for use; but the 
longer it is kept the better it will be. I think most artists who have tried preparing 
their own canvases prefer them to those which are to be procured in shops. All 
sorts of textures can be secured in this way by purchasing different qualities of canvas 
or cloth, and the prepared ground can be varied as experience or fancy may suggest. 

Brown or other papers, and pasteboard or milled-board, may be prepared in the 
same way, and will be quite as good and serviceable as the ‘ oil sketching paper ’ 
and the ‘ Academy boards/ sold at the artists’ colourmen’s, at prices varying from 
about ninepence per sheet for paper measuring 24 inches by 19 inches, to one 
shilling and sixpence for ‘ Academy boards * of 26 inches by 19 inches. 

The prices at shops for the prepared canvas mentioned above are about three 
shillings and sixpence per yard for plain cloth one yard wide, and five shillings 
per yard for Roman cloth or ticken of the same width. With increase in width 
of the canvas the price rises in a very rapid ratio. 

Prepared canvases strained on wedged frames may be had at prices ranging 
from one shilling for one measuring 8 inches by 6 inches, to one shilling and six¬ 
pence for one measuring 12 inches by 10 inches, two shillings for one 16 inches by 
12 inches, three shillings and sixpence for one 24 inches by 18 inches, and so on 
up to three pounds for one 8 feet 10 inches by 5 feet 10 inches. The intermediate 
sizes can, of course, be had. If one of these wedged frames be procured, any 
intelligent carpenter and joiner could make others from the pattern, or the frames 
can be bought without the canvas at the shops. 

Panels of white wood can be purchased of a size to fit the grooves in the French 
paint-boxes, where several may be carried while wet without risk. For the smaller 
sizes old cigar-boxes may be used up; the wood is excellent for the purpose, being 
well seasoned, ami the empty boxes can be bought cheaply at tobacconists’. 

Note. —The prices mentioned above are only given with the object of affording 
you a rough general idea of cost of materials; they are often subject to a discount 
or reduction to those who pay ‘ ready money.’ 

We come next to the consideration of the paints, or colours. These are the 
most important and interesting of all the materials, for they are, in fact, when 
mingled and tempered with judgment, and deftly laid upon the canvas, the very 
picture itself; and if, in the last chapter, I seemed to speak slightingly of them, as 
though you should not concern yourself with them or their qualities, it was that I 
might emphasize strongly and impress deeply upon your minds the idea that while 
you are painting, your whole consciousness should be filled and permeated with 
your subject. To give that truthfully and cleverly upon the canvas is the business 
of the moment, and you should permit no pre-occupations or disquietudes as to your 
materials to disturb you then. 

If, however, you love your painting, you will have a tenderness for your tools. 
And you cannot occupy yourselves better, when you are not sitting down to the 
contemplation and study of Nature or noble works of Art, than by making yourselves 




256 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


acquainted with the nature, qualities, properties, and especially with the combina¬ 
tions of the colours you use. 

Within the limits of our space it is not possible to give you all the information 
under this head which might be desirable, but enough may perhaps be said to arouse 
your interest and to point the direction in which your reading and experiments may 
be profitably extended. 

The raw material of the various pigments is derived from the mineral, the 
vegetable, and the animal kingdoms, and the paints, as we buy them, are prepared 
for use in some instances by chemical processes, which totally alter the colours and 
qualities of the basis from which they are derived, in others by a simple grinding of 
the natural product. 

Thus the brilliant chrome yellows are produced from the dull-grey metal lead by 
chemical means, while the more sober ochre occurs in Nature in the form of an 
earth, and needs only careful grinding and purification to fit it for use. The 
process of grinding is one of the greatest possible importance, and in old times 
formed the most laborious part of the artist’s work. Thorough grinding adds to the 
brilliance, the workable quality, and even, it is said, to the permanence of colours; 
and if formerly the master could delegate the manual labour of this detail of his 
profession to his pupils, he dared never omit the duty of thorough personal super¬ 
intendence. Now, ingenious machinery and the skilled attention of men whose 
reputation depends on the accuracy and perfection of the processes they employ, 
have relieved the artist from much toil, and have substituted the responsibility of 
selection for that of individual manufacture. 

Of the various sources from which the pigments are derived, the mineral forms 
the basis of the most numerous class. Next in number and importance, but at a 
long interval, come those colours which have a vegetable origin, and last, those 
derived from animal substances. The various colours, when commingled, have 
often a strong influence upon one another; in some instances this influence is of a 
favourable, at others of an unfavourable, character: thus, the ochres and all 
pigments derived from iron as a base have the effect of blackening Naples yellow, 
which is a compound of the oxides of antimony and of lead \ on the other hand, a 
little burnt umber added to Vandyke brown, which is an excessively bad drier, 
causes it to dry with fair rapidity. 

The vegetable colours are fugitive ; as, for example, indigo, brown, pink, yellow, 
lake. The notable exceptions to this rule are the madders (pink madder, rose 
madder, brown madder, and purple madder) and Vandyke brown, which are quite 
permanent, and of great value. Among the colours derived from animal substances 
are carmine and the ordinary lakes, which are prepared from the cochineal insect 
{these have all a bad character for permanence), sepia, a secretion of the cuttle-fish, 
and ivory black, which is an animal charcoal. 

The following is a list of some of the colours in most general use, with a brief 
note of their most distinctive qualities appended to each. It does not contain one 
half of the colours to be found in the lists published by artists’ colourmen and 
manufacturers, but it contains all and many more than you will ever need, and 
perhaps five times as many as you will want at any one time; for if in the prismatic 
spectrum we see all the vast range of natural colours reduced to the elementary 
yellow, red, and blue, it follows that a good red, a good yellow, and a good blue 
will help you far on your way towards composing the varied tints which you see in 



ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS. 


257 


Nature. Add to these, white; two more yellows, of characters differing as widely 
as possible from each other and from that already chosen; one green, such as 
emerald, which cannot be produced by mixture; a lake, a vermilion, and a brown, 
such as raw umber, and you will possess a palette which, though some may think 
it scanty and poor in resource, is sufficient for nearly every purpose. The saying 
is trite and threadbare, but it deserves, nevertheless, to be ever present to your minds, 
that ‘ the secret of good colouring lies in a simple palette.’ Make acquaintance 
with as many colours as you please, but let the colours of your choice, like the 
friends of your bosom, be a select and well-tried few. It matters comparatively 
little which they are, provided you have arrived at an intimate and thorough under¬ 
standing with them. 

Flake White is an oxidized carbonate of lead, which depends largely for its good 
qualities upon the amount of honest care devoted to its manufacture. The best 
samples are excellent in all respects, and may be thoroughly depended on for 
durability. It has great body, that is to say, it is very opaque, and a very small 
quantity makes itself strongly felt both in mixtures and in ‘ covering ’ the canvas, 
and it ‘ works ’ well; in other words, its texture and substance are such that it is 
easy to lay it on the canvas with the brush with crisp, precise touches, or even and 
smooth sweeps. This is a quality which is much less marked in some other colours, 
such as raw sienna, terra verte, &c. 

Naples Yellow is a good and useful colour, prepared in several depths of tint. 
Of these the lightest is the most generally useful. It is very opaque, permanent, 
dries rapidly, and works well. It should not be rubbed up with a steel palette- 
knife, as iron causes it to become black. For the same reason it should not be 
mingled with the ochres, Prussian blue, or other colours of which iron is the base; 
but may be used freely with flake white and other colours derived from lead or from 
antimony. It is said that the French Naples yellow is free from this drawback; it 
is, however, of a different cast of colour from the English. 

Yellow Ochre is an earthy substance, which owes its colour to the oxides of iron 
present in it. It is found in a natural state in this and other countries. It possesses 
all the qualities of a good pigment, being permanent, drying well, working well, 
and possessing a fair substance or body. 

Raw Sienna is of the same origin as the preceding, but is transparent and some¬ 
what stronger in colouring properties. It is permanent, but does not dry well. 
It is very useful in landscape. 

Cadmium Yellow .—This is a bright, warm, strong, semi-transparent yellow, 
prepared from the metal cadmium by a chemical process. Its extreme brilliancy 
renders it very useful on occasion. It works well, dries fairly well, and is said to be 
quite permanent. 

Pale Cadmium is of the same origin as the above, and has the same qualities, 
but in colour it differs much, since it approaches the lemon, primrose, or pale- 
greenish yellows, while the former tends more towards the orange. The pale 
cadmium is the more widely useful in landscape, in mixed greens, by itself, and 
in tints with flake white. 

The Chromes are colours whose chief recommendation is their cheapness. 
Though brilliant, they are coarse and heavy. They are not permanent under 
certain circumstances, and some of the greens formed with them are fugitive. They 
are prepared in several tints, of which that known as orange chrome is the least 

s 



258 


THE GIRES OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


objectionable. The other tints may with advantage be replaced by such colours as 
the cadmiums, lemon yellow, and the like. 

Lemon Yellow. —This is a fresh, bright yellow of a light tint, and of a che¬ 
mical origin, with a tendency towards the greenish scale. It is semi-transparent, 
and very weak in colouring properties, but is permanent, and very useful in 
landscape. 

Indian Yellow is a pure, strong yellow, very useful for compounding strong, 
rich greens. Field, in his Grammar of Colouring , gives it a bad character for 
permanence, and but an indifferent one for depth and body. 

Yellow Lake. —This is rather an unsatisfactory colour, but very tempting in 
consequence of its transparence and brilliancy. It does not dry well in oil, and 
does not form permanent tints with white lead or other metallic colours, but 
produces in mixture with the blues very bright, fresh greens ; and with white 
clear, cool, sunny tones; but it is not very permanent in any circumstances or 
combinations. 

Italian Pink is a variety of yellow lake, for which, if preferred, it may be 
substituted. 

Light Red is of earthy origin. It is, in fact, yellow ochre burnt until it assumes 
a red colour. It is a most valuable pigment, very permanent, a good drier, and 
works well. It is classed as semi-transparent. 

Venetian Red is similar in nearly every respect to the above ; the one difference 
being its rather more vivid colour, which approaches more nearly to scarlet, while 
light red tends rather towards orange. 

Indian Red is a very valuable colour of earthy origin, owing its characteristic 
colour (which should be of a slightly purplish tendency, and more approaching to 
the lakes than either light red or Venetian red) to the presence of a large proportion 
of peroxide of iron. It is quite permanent, of very strong colouring properties, and 
a good drier. Opaque. 

Vermilion is a sulphuret of mercury. It has great body and brilliance of colour, 
and when pure is quite permanent. It is opaque, and it dries fairly well. 

Rose Madder, Madder Lake, Madder Carmine are all preparations in varying 
depth and differences of tint of the same pigment, which has a general character of 
rosy redness, and is of vegetable origin. As a class they are bad driers, but are 
quite permanent, and on this account and on account of their purity and beauty 
of colour to be preferred to the lakes, which are prepared from the cochineal insect, 
and are fugitive and comparatively coarse in colour. They are all very transparent. 

Purple Madder and Brow71 Madder. —These pigments may be mentioned here 
somewhat out of their true order, since they are of the same origin and have the 
same characteristics as the above. The one, as its name implies, has a purple 
colour; the other is of a warm, rich brown. 

The Lakes — Cri 77 ison, Scarlet, and Purple —have much the same qualities as the 
madders, but lack their permanence. The latter are much to be preferred, but the 
lakes are still often and largely used. 

Ultra 77 iari?ie is the most permanent and beautiful of all blues. It is prepared by 
grinding from the lapis lazuli, and has every good quality except that of cheapness, 
in which it is conspicuously deficient. 

French UltratJiarine is a cheaper substitute for and imitation of the above. It 
has nearly all its qualities in a lower degree. It is a good drier, and the purer 



ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS. 


259 


samples are permanent. It is nearly transparent, and most useful—almost in¬ 
dispensable to the landscape painter. 

Cobalt is a pure blue of metallic origin, with less body than ultramarine, and 
paler in tone. It is also less transparent. It is, however, a useful' colour, which 
dries and works well. 

Prussian Blue is a strong transparent colour prepared from iron; it has great 
body and dries well, but is of doubtful permanence. It is very useful. 

Antwerp Blue, similar in all respects to the above, but not quite so strong. 

Indigo is a beautiful, strong, and transparent vegetable blue, not so bright as the 
last two, and inferior to both in permanence. It dries well. 

Ivory Black and Blue Black are two neutral black pigments, the one prepared 
from animal, the other from vegetable charcoal. Of these the former has the 
greater body, and the latter a paler, greyer tone, which is sometimes serviceable. 
The former is the most transparent. They are both quite permanent, and work and 
dry well. 

Burnt Sienna is a very valuable colour of the same origin and general character¬ 
istics as the raw sienna, from which it is prepared by heat—that is to say, it is 
permanent, has considerable transparency, works well, and dries better than the 
raw sienna. 

Orange Chrome is the most eligible of the chromes, and a useful adjunct to the 
palette. It has all the disadvantages of the other chromes, though in a less degree, 
but it also shares in their brilliancy and body. 

Orange Vermilion is an excellent and useful colour of great body and opacity, 
permanent like the pure vermilion, and of the same chemical origin. It dries well. 

Vandyke Brown is manufactured from a bog earth, which is of vegetable origin. 
This is a valuable pigment of a coolish brown colour; it is very durable, of a semi¬ 
transparent texture, and good body. Its great drawback is the difficulty with which 
it dries. 

Cappah Brown is of a similar character and origin to the last, but contains the 
mineral manganese in admixture. The larger or smaller quantity of this mineral 
determines the varying quality of the sample. That containing more of the mineral 
is lighter and less transparent; that containing less is deeper and more transparent. 
Cappah brown dries much better than Vandyke brown. 

Brow ft Madder has already been noticed. 

Raw Umber and Burnt Umber are two pigments of the same origin and general 
characteristics—the burnt umber simply acquiring by the process of roasting a 
deeper and more russet hue. 

The umbers are of the same nature as the ochres. They are permanent, work 
well, dry excellently, and impart their drying qualities to other pigments with which 
they may be mixed, as, for instance, Vandyke brown. 

Emerald Green is a very brilliant, cold green of a tint that cannot be produced 
by mixture; it is permanent, but does not work very well nor dry rapidly. It is, 
however, useful, and can be replaced by no other colour. 

Terre Verte is an earth like the ochres, but of a cool, sad, green colour. It is 
semi-transparent, very permanent, and dries well, but does not work well, and is 
deficient in body. 

Green Oxide of Chromium is a permanent green of a deep tone, but not very 
brilliant hue. It has great body, and needs to be used with care. 


s 2 



26 o 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Verdigris is an acetate of copper of a deep, cold green, very rich and transparent, 
but not durable. It affords, however, both in mixture with white and with other 
pigments, a range of colours not easily found without its range. 

As I have already said, there are many other colours the enumeration of which ' 
would be tedious. The above form a sufficient group to select from, and the 
curious or the dissatisfied may turn to more comprehensive handbooks, or to original 
experiment. 


Having enumerated and described with some care and fulness of detail the more 
important of the simple pigments, I have now to consider the subject of the 
combination of colours; but the few hints which I can give must be largely 
supplemented by your own independent and persevering experiments. The subject 
is far too large for exhaustive treatment here. The infinity of tints and com¬ 
binations of colours, in groups of twos and threes and more, is at once the resource 
and the despair of the artist. You might as well try to calculate the number of 
tunes that can be played upon the piano, as the number of varying hues that can 
be produced from the colours on your palette in all their range of intensity, from 
the deepest power to the most delicate tint. The aid which can be given by means 
of written instruction in this branch of our subject, or for that matter in any other, 
but too closely resembles the help which the skater gives to his unpractised friend 
when, leading him ten steps upon the gleaming ice, he leaves Tyro with a ‘ Good 
luck ! * and a neighbourly shove, to overcome for himself his slippery difficulties. 

White, the first pigment on our list, and the most important of them all, when 
mingled with any other colour raises its tone—that is to say, lightens it. In 
mixture with the transparent colours it renders them opaque or semi-opaque, 
according as more or less white is used, at the same time causing a noticeable 
change in the quality of the colour. This may be remarked, for example, in the 
case of Vandyke brown, which, when largely reduced with white, becomes quite a 
cool grey. 

You will observe that you have, in the list of colours on page 232, several 
natural secondaries, 1 such as burnt sienna and orange chrome, which belong 
to the orange class, emerald green and terre verte among the greens, and purple 
madder among the purples; but you will need to supplement these by 
admixtures. 

Of course, any red with any yellow will produce orange; and there are only two 
main considerations to limit your free choice. 

One consideration is, that if you want to produce a transparent orange you must 
mingle a transparent red with a transparent yellow; if you wish a semi-transparent 
orange, one only of the ingredients must be transparent; and if you wish an opaque 
result, both must be opaque. The other consideration is one of expediency, and 
looks to the character of the result of the mixture. Thus, for example, it would be 
unwise to mix Naples yellow with Indian red, since the iron which is the base of 
the latter colour would cause the former to turn more or less black in time. A 
study of the character and origin of the various pigments, as they are set forth in 

1 The primary colours are red, yellow, and blue ; the secondaries are orange, green, 
and purple ; the tertiaries are russet, olive, and citrine. Brown and grey are semi¬ 
neutrals, and black and white are neutrals. 



ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS. 


261 


my list, will prevent you from going very far wrong in this direction. The whole 
subject of the changes which paints suffer from noxious influences, and from their 
action one upon another, is fully treated by Field in his Grammar of Colouring 
(Weale’s Rudimentary Series, Pai?iti?ig). 

So, again, any blue with any yellow will produce a green, and the component 
colours may be used in combination freely, subject only to the limitations mentioned 
above. Black with the stronger yellows also produces a sober range of semi-neutral 
greens, very useful in landscape. Generally, it will be found that the pure blue 
and yellows form too crude a green : in such case a little red or orange may usefully 
be added to break the rawness. It is worthy of remark that no admixture of blues 
and yellow will give the peculiar hue of emerald green, a fact which renders this 
colour very useful and almost indispensable to the artist. 

The above general remarks, of course, apply equally to the secondary purple, 
which, as you are aware, is a compound of red and blue. A little yellow or 
green may be used to reduce the extreme brilliancy of this colour. 

Of the tertiary colours, olive, citrine, and russet, it is only necessary to say 
that they are formed by mixture of the secondaries in pairs, or by the mixture of all 
the primaries in varying proportions. In olive, blue predominates; in citrine, 
yellow; and in russet, red. The tertiary scale of colours will often form by far the 
largest part of your picture, and you can hardly devote too much time and trouble 
to study an experiment among the beautiful and subdued tints and hues which 
belong to this class. 

Brown and grey are called semi-neutral colours; they have more of black in 
their composition than the others that we have been considering. The brown is, of 
course, the warm, and the grey the cool, semi-neutral. Turner painted some very 
precious studies and pictures exclusively in brown and grey before, in the course of 
study which he marked out, he trusted himself with the use of colour. Vandyke 
brown or raw umber mixed with a large proportion of white forms beautiful cool 
greys, not too neutral in hue. 

Black, the last colour on our list, is absolutely neutral—that is, it is not, strictly 
speaking, colour at all. It is a valuable addition to the palette, but should be used 
with great judgment and caution. A near approach to black may be made by the 
admixture in proper proportions of deep tones of red, yellow, and blue. Prussian 
blue, brown, pink, and crimson lake will make a fine transparent black, which, when 
laid thinly on other colours, allows them to show through. 

I wish here to guard carefully against an idea which may possibly dwell in your 
minds—the idea that it is necessary to mix your colours smoothly and intimately 
together in forming a compound hue. This may, indeed, be sometimes expedient, 
but mostly it will be found that much more brilliant, tender, and beautiful results 
will arise from the imperfect mingling of the colours upon the canvas or picture 
itself, a result similar to that obtained by stippling in water colour. To make my 
meaning quite clear, suppose that it is desired to represent a warm golden light in 
the lower part of the sky : if you dip one corner of the brush into a little pure red, 
and with the other corner take up more in proportion of a suitable yellow, and with 
the brush thus charged boldly scrape up enough flake white largely to temper these 
colours, you will, by applying them in their integrity to that part of the sky where 
they are needed, and then lightly working them together, so as to leave traces of the 
pure colours apparent here and there, produce a luminous and aerial effect, which 



262 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


would have been entirely lost had you in the first instance mingled and rubbed the 
same brushful of colour into a flat and heavy tint. The remark here made is 
applicable, more or less, to every part of your picture, whatever it may be. Again, 
if a point of opaque colour be allowed to dry, and be then lightly touched over with 
a transparent colour of a different hue, the result will be far more brilliant than if 
the two colours had been mingled. This operation is call glazing. 

The colours as they are supplied in tubes by the artists’ colourmen are generally 
of a convenient consistency, and it is seldom indeed that they really require 
dilution. An exception may be made in the case of flake white, which is often too 
thick for some purposes, such as painting skies, where rapidity and freedom are 
requisite. For this and for similar purposes it is well to have some tubes mixed 
thinner. Of course you can temper your own thick colours for yourself, and it is 
only because so much more white is used than other colours that I recommend you 
to get it in two forms. These remarks bring me naturally to the consideration of 
the next portion of my subject—the oils, mediums, and varnishes, namely, which are 
used in painting. 

Those in most general use are raw linseed oil, boiled linseed oil, otherwise called 
drying oil or driers, copal varnish, mastic varnish, and spirits of turpentine. 
Megilps or mediums are generally compounds of the above. 

Plain linseed oil is the vehicle used by the manufacturers in which to grind up 
and prepare moist colours, and if your paint (being a good drier) simply needs to be 
made more fluid, you may add a little raw linseed oil for that purpose, mixing the 
paint and oil thoroughly together with your palette-knife. Boiled oil is linseed oil 
which has been boiled, with the addition of sugar of lead. This causes it to dry 
rapidly, and renders it very useful as an addition to those paints which are deficient 
in drying quality. Mastic varnish and copal varnish are solutions of the gums 
respectively so called, in spirits of turpentine. They are useful in compounding 
mediums, to which they impart some of their distinctive characteristics, as well as 
for varnishing the painting when dry; an operation which, I take this opportunity of 
remarking, should never be executed without great care and judgment, and never 
until the painting is quite dry and hard, when a little varnish of copal may be 
applied sparingly, in just sufficient quantity, but no more, to bring out the depth 
and richness of the colours, and to protect them from dirt and the deleterious action 
of bad air and gases. Few things give a more vulgar and common look to a picture 
than the lavish and indiscriminate use of varnish. 

A good medium for general use may be compounded of equal parts of drying 
oil and mastic varnish, which when allowed to stand for a few minutes turns to a 
jelly, and will be found very pleasant and effective in use. This medium may be 
mixed in small quantities, from time to time, upon the palette as it is required. There 
is ample choice of other megilps, mediums, and siccatives at the artists’ colourmen’s, 
where they may be procured made up in collapsible tubes like the paints. 

The brushes chiefly used for painting in oils are made of hog’s hair, flat or 
round, and some are made of sable, fitch, and other hairs. 

You may begin with about a dozen brushes, say, two flat hog tools of the size 
known as No. 2, two of No. 4, two of No. 6, and two of No. 8 ; of sables, Nos. 1 and 3, 
one each, and a badger hair softener. This is a round or flat brush, with the hairs 
spreading outwards instead of coming to a point or edge. It is used for passing 
lightly over flat spaces in the painting, backwards and forwards and in every 



ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS. 


263 


direction, to smooth and soften the tint. Many artists never use this tool, and all 
good artists use it with great caution, as its excessive use is apt to produce a 
‘woolly’ and insipid texture. The use of the other brushes need not be further 
dwelt upon than to say that the hog tools are used for the general broad, solid 
painting, and the sables for the more delicate portions. In choosing flat brushes 
for oil-painting, see that you select those which come to a fine, even, chisel-shaped 
edge when wetted and smoothed out between the fingers. Note also the springy, 
flexible, and elastic quality which characterises the bristles of a good brush. 
Always use the largest brushes that the nature of your work will allow. Do not 
forget this—it is one of the best pieces of advice which I have to give you on the 
subject. The most delicate branches of a tree may be suggested better—that is to 
say, more artistically—by using the side or edge of a moderately large brush 
dragged lightly, delicately, and dexterously in the right direction than by the finest 
sable. 

Never leave your brushes unwashed after you have finished painting with them. 
Nothing spoils a good brush so quickly and so effectually as allowing the paint to dry 
in it. Brushes should be washed in warm water with soap, and gently rubbed in 
the palm of the hand until the lather comes free from all stain of colour. The 
water should never be hot enough to dissolve or even soften the resinous cement 
which fastens the hair to the ferrule and the ferrule to the handle. The process of 
washing may be facilitated by rinsing the brushes first in spirit of turpentine or 
benzoline, and then washing them in the manner described above; or if at any 
time it is inconvenient to wash them at once, they may be laid in an oil-pan— 
an oblong tin trough, sloping downwards towards one end, into which has been 
poured a little raw linseed or poppy oil. The brushes are laid in this, and 
are thus preserved moist. When they are wanted again, the superfluous oil may 
be removed from the hair by wiping on a rag, and the brushes are again ready 
for use. 

In addition to the brushes, a palette-knife should be provided. Palette-knives 
are made of various shapes, but the chief quality to be looked for is flexibility. 
This tool is used for mixing tints on the palette when necessary, and for tempering 
the paint by the admixture of medium or oil. It is also used for scraping the paint 
away from the palette, or from any portion of the picture when it is desired to do 
so. A porte-crayon will be found useful. In one end should be kept a morsel of 
dry, soft charcoal, to be used in the first rough sketch of your picture; in the other 
end you should keep a piece of black or red chalk, or a little charcoal which has been 
steeped in drying oil; either of these may be used for the careful drawing-in of the 
outline before commencing. 

The palette should be as light as is compatible with strength, and should balance 
well upon the thumb, so as not to cause undue strain upon the muscles of that 
member. Though the colours may be allowed, for the sake of convenience, to 
remain upon the edge of the palette, where they are arranged as long as they will 
keep moist, and fresh portions be added from time to time as they become exhausted, 
yet the rest of the space upon the palette should be kept smooth and polished, so 
that the palette-knife will glide easily over the surface and remove the paint cleanly. 
It is well to moisten the face of the palette well with linseed-oil, rubbing it in with rag 
from time to time for a day or two before beginning to use it. This prevents the 
paint from soaking in and staining the surface. Afterwards, the palette should 



IMaIMkV.iMMU 



An Oil-Colour Box 







































































ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS . 


265 


always be cleaned when the day’s work is over, first by scraping with the palette- 
knife, and then by rubbing with a rag and a little iinseed-oil or turpentine. A supply 
of clean rag should be kept in the paint-box for wiping the brushes or the palette, or 
for removing the paint, if necessary, from a part of the canvas where a mistake has 
been made. 

Here my list of your tools and materials closes, for though there are other things 
in common use, they are not indispensable. Among them are a mahl-stick for 
resting the wrist upon while painting, a looking-glass or mirror for studying the 
accuracy of your drawing as it appears reversed in the reflection, a slab and muller 
for grinding up the colours, a T square, and a pair of compasses. 

There are, however, three things which I have not yet mentioned : these are a 
paint-box, an easel, and a seat. Of convenient paint-boxes, many patterns may be 
seen at the artists’ colourmen’s, from which you may select the one which seems 
most calculated to meet your needs and your purse. It should be constructed to 
carry one or two canvases or panels in the lid without danger of smearing them 
while the painting is wet, and it should be provided with an arm or support, to hold 
the lid firmly at a convenient angle while you are working on your sketch. You 
may thus dispense with an easel, by placing the box upon your knees, and painting 
your subject on the panel or canvas in the lid. 

For my own use I have had a box constructed to hold canvases larger than can 
be contained in the boxes usually sold in the shops. It is made of thin soft pine 
wood, and is 24 inches in length, and about 15 inches in breadth. In the back of 
the lid I fix, by means of drawing pins or tacks, a piece of loose canvas, and in 
front of this comes another canvas strained upon a thin, light stretcher, specially 
constructed to fit tightly into the lid. By this means I can carry with me two 
sketches about 14 inches by 22 inches. When packed they are face to face, and 
protect one another. The body of the box is divided into two main compartments, 
by a partition running from front to back in the centre. In one of these compartments 
are placed the oil-colours, brushes, rag, turpentine and oil bottles, &c., and these 
are kept in place by the palette, which is arranged face upwards to form a lid, and 
is fixed by means of small buttons or similar contrivances. In the other compart¬ 
ment may be placed small sketches or papers for chalk or pencil drawings, or, if you 
like, your water-colour box, with its water-bottle and a block sketch-book. The lid 
on this side is a piece of thin pine wood, clamped at the ends to prevent its warping, 
which forms a convenient drawing-board. A sketch of this box appears on the 
opposite page. 

If, however, you find it expedient to use an easel, as you must for pictures 
beyond a certain size, then, if it is to be used for out-of-door work from Nature, see 
that the legs can be shortened or lengthened, to adjust the easel to any irregularities 
that may occur in the ground. The choice of a portable seat may be left to your 
own tastes and needs. If a square seat be chosen, I recommend those which fold 
quite flat, because they pack up with the canvases and the paint-box more neatly 
and securely, and form a protection for the former in travelling. 

Being now in a position to make an intelligent and judicious choice of your 
materials, it is time to go forth, and, taking your stand before some simple but 
picturesque scene, to commence the labour and practice of representing it upon 
your canvas. 

A word or two first, however, on the choice of your subject. It is part, I think. 




266 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


of the perversity of all things human that the beginner seems to be almost invariably 
impelled to select difficult subjects; often those from which the artist who has 
learned wisdom by experience might (not, indeed, shrink, but) approach with a 
certain diffidence, and a feeling that the result for him would be rather an 
increase of knowledge and power to be applied in the future than a success in his 
present effort. 

Remember, then, what I have said above, and be careful to choose a simple 
subject, such a subject as I shall presently describe, for your early efforts, and pass 
gradually to more complex and animated scenes. A steady progress in your art 
may best be secured by a constant struggling with subjects a little, but only a little, 
beyond your power. 

I am assuming here that you are but a beginner, and I feel it important that 
you should not be discouraged. Make up your mind, therefore, that your first 
sketches cannot, in the nature of things, be more than comparatively successful, 
and be satisfied, if, after half-a-dozen trials, you find some things in your last study 
which are better than anything in your first. 

Now, I have used two words in the last paragraph in rather a loose sense, and 
as, if taken in their popular acceptation, they are not unlikely to mislead you, we 
had better understand at once what we mean by them. I refer to the terms ‘ sketch ’ 
and ‘ study.’ Many people are in the habit of describing any landscape work 
executed direct from Nature on the spot as a sketch, but the term may more properly 
be restricted to notes or memoranda made with pencil or brush of passing effects or 
momentary combinations. The sketch proper is never intended at the time to 
become a picture, whatever may afterwards be found to be its capabilities in that 
direction, but only to fix what is transient, and to aid the memory. Only the finished 
artist can ‘ sketch ’ to any good purpose. A study is a careful transcript of a scene 
or of part of a scene given with all the completeness that the subject and the 
circumstances will permit. Both the tyro and the master may profitably spend very 
much time in making studies. On this point Mr. Alfred Clint well observes in his 
Guide to Oil Painting , ‘ A sketch is only useful to an artist of considerable expe¬ 
rience, whose memory, from a long acquaintance with Nature, enables him to supply 
all that is wanting in a sketch. To the beginner it is utterly useless.’ 

To return to the choice of a subject. It is an excellent plan to begin by painting 
isolated foreground objects, as they are called; that is, objects situated near you. 
For instance, you may choose a branch or the trunk of a tree fifteen or twenty paces 
away, with just a little of the fern or grass at its root; the picturesque gable of a 
cottage; a stranded boat; or a rock at low tide, with its clothing of seaweed and its 
reflection in wet sand or shallow pool. 

If, however, you prefer an entire scene, select for your early efforts a simple 
subject; one in which there are a few broad masses of light and shade, and not 
many small and intricate forms to puzzle you and to distract your attention from the 
relative tones of the grand divisions of the picture. Such a subject would be afforded 
by a bit of common land or heath with a mass of furze bushes, or some broken land 
in the middle distance, with perhaps a clump of trees on the right or left, or a 
cottage with its rustic paling, or even a fingerpost standing up against the sky. 

If you cannot find in your neighbourhood a scene with simple elements such as 
these, perhaps you live near the sea, and can sit down before a stretch of sandy or 
pebbly beach, with a line of distant cliffs running across the middle distance and 



ON PAINTING IN OIL-COLOURS. 


267 


meeting the sea. These subjects, and such as these, should not tax too severely 
your patience or your resources; especially if you take care to avoid at first the 
introduction of too prominent and numerous foreground objects. These are likely 
to spoil the unity of your picture, until you have acquired sufficient experience and 
judgment to keep them in their due subordinate relation to the rest of the com¬ 
position. This is a mere matter of seeing your subject as a whole correctly and 
comprehensively—a power which will come to you with time and practice, and with 
repeated comparisons between your own work and that of the best masters of 
landscape art. 

Having decided upon the scene which you wish to depict, you must begin by 
drawing upon the canvas carefully but loosely and lightly with charcoal the position 
and proportions of the more important masses and the larger forms. 

Determine first of all the height upon your canvas of the line of the horizon, and 
then selecting some accentuated object at or near the centre of this line, mark care¬ 
fully its form and position on the canvas ; next draw in any other forms to the right 
or left of it, so far as the scope of your canvas permits. This done, you will have a 
good guide for the position and size of the other objects above or below the 
horizontal line, which must all be carefully and attentively indicated with the char¬ 
coal, but without much detail, for all small markings will inevitably be lost when you 
come to lay on the paint. 

This seems to me a convenient opportunity to warn you that you must not fall 
into the error of supposing that when your outline is complete, however carefully, 
the labour of drawing is over. You must draw as accurately and attentively with 
the brush all the time, and with as constant a reference to the model before you in 
Nature as ever you do with the point, for you will constantly be losing bits of drawing 
beneath the paint which you must recover at the proper time with the brush. 

Having got your broad masses correctly placed upon the canvas with dry char¬ 
coal, you may take a piece of chalk, black or red, or a fine sable brush dipped in 
colour made quite thin by the admixture of turpentine, and go over the whole of 
your outline, correcting and amplifying, or simplifying, as you go. 

When this is done you are ready to begin painting, but first take a few minutes 
of calm and attentive contemplation wherein to study the whole extent of your 
subject, broadly and comprehensively settling once for all in your mind the relations 
of the large masses of light and shade. 

Thus you may ask yourself, is your sky, as a whole, the lightest portion of your 
picture ? if so, then be sure not to be led away when painting the clouds into the 
mistake of lowering the tone until it competes with the distances or the foreground. 
On the other hand, if a stretch of sunlit grass or sparkling sea should happen to be 
the highest light in nature, then be sure to introduce sufficient tone into the sky to 
throw up that light, whatever it may be, into due prominence. 

By attending carefully to the just relations as to tone of these and other such 
broad masses, you will be less likely to be tempted into frittering away, so to speak, 
the simplicity and harmony of your picture by the introduction of unnecessary and 
impertinent detail. Great judgment and great experience are necessary before you 
can avoid this, and one of the highest triumphs of art is the just rendering of subtle 
and delicate relations of tone in the masses of the picture, while giving due but 
unexaggerated prominence to details. 

When you think that you have fixed in your mind the true values of sky, 



268 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


distance, trees, foreground, &c., take your palette and begin with the sky. (This is 
the mode of procedure generally recommended, though I think it does not usually 
matter very much where you begin.) Take a good big squeeze of the thin white of 
which I have spoken on a former page, and a little each of yellow ochre, Naples 
yellow, lemon yellow, jaune brilliant (Edouard’s), crimson lake, light red, vermilion, 
French ultramarine, or, if you like, cobalt or cerulean blue. The mixture of Vandyke 
brown and white, to which I have formerly alluded, is also very useful in skies. 
With these colours you will be able to form tints which will represent almost any 
daylight sky. For sunsets you may have to use brighter and richer colours, and may 
then add to your palette raw sienna, Indian yellow, &c. 

In painting skies you should use very little if any medium, and in mixing and 
laying on the tints remember that the blue pigments are always—I do not think there 
is any exception—too cold for the colour of the sky, as you see it in Nature. With 
the blue of your choice, say French ultramarine and white, you mix a tint which 
shall be neither too light nor too dark, adding a very little yellow, say lemon yellow, 
or a little red, say lake, or both, and this you lay on, remembering that the colour 
is stronger and more purple towards the zenith—which means a little more blue 
and lake to your white high up on the canvas—and weaker and more neutral, 
though often warm towards the horizon, which means that as you come down 
you must add more white to your tints, and perhaps a little more yellow, and 
substitute light red for the lake, if necessary. The varieties of colour in skies are 
indescribable and innumerable, and your own observation and ingenuity must be 
your guide. 

The tints for clouds you will be able to mix from ultramarine and white, with 
light red, vermilion, or Indian red, and often with lake. A little black may 
sometimes be useful: indeed, some cloudy skies may be painted in entirely with 
black and white, just warmed with a faint touch of light red. And raw umber is 
not seldom found useful. A range of beautiful pearly greys may be compounded 
from cobalt, raw umber, and light red, in varying proportions mingled with black 
and white. For the lights on clouds you may try white and Naples yellow, white 
and light red, and to either of these you may add a touch of vermilion, if necessary. 
White, with a very little raw umber, is sometimes useful. And even lemon 
yellow may be used sparingly with advantage. For the extreme distance your 
palette will require little or no alteration or addition. The colours are the same, 
for the most part, but generally stronger and duller. Greys, blues, and purples 
will still be found to predominate, and these may be compounded from the colours 
already mentioned, but with a less admixture of white. 

As we approach the foreground, the transparent and semi-transparent colours 
are more and more largely employed, with little or no addition of white, especially 
in the parts which are in shadow. In the middle distance, in addition to the 
pigments already chosen, such colours as raw sienna, burnt sienna, terre verte, and 
madder brown will be found useful, either pure or in combination with white. In 
the foreground the full power and variety of the palette may be brought into 
requisition, and the richest and strongest colours may be employed as occasion 
seems to demand, so long as crudity and rawness are avoided. Here, too, details 
become more visible, and small objects and markings need to be made out, 
but always with due subjection to the harmony and unity of the whole picture. 
In the foreground the shadows should be painted thinly with transparent colour. 




HOW TO PAINT CHRISTMAS AND BIRTHDAY CARDS. 269 


which, while wet, may be painted into with semi-transparent and opaque touches, 
to give depth and variety to these shadows. The lights, on the other hand, 
should be painted strongly and firmly with opaque colour and a full brush. 

There is one further point to which I would draw your attention. It is that the 
scene before you is constantly undergoing changes, some gradual and continuous, 
from the changing position of lights and shadows, some sudden and irregular, 
such as are produced by the passing of a cloud. The first of these is most 
important, as it renders it impracticable for you to paint for more than three, or 
at most four hours, at one subject, so that if you wish to paint all day from Nature, 
you must be prepared with two canvases and two subjects, one for the early and 
one for the later conditions of light. The effect of the fleeting cloud may be 
disregarded, for you may wait until it is past; but sometimes the transient effect 
is so beautiful that you may well try to seize it with memory or with brush, 
and transfer it to your canvas. In effecting this object, however, a certain 
boldness and readiness of resource are necessary, which only come by practice 
and experience. That practice and that experience must result from your own 
exertions, and cannot be supplied by the guidance of others, however minute 
or painstaking their efforts; and it is to your own efforts that I now commend 
you, in the assurance that setting aside the diversity of natural gifts your success 
will be proportionate to your earnestness, your simple-mindedness, and your 
enthusiasm. 


HOW TO PAINT CHRISTMAS AND BIRTHDAY CARDS. 

By the Baroness Helga von Cramm. 

1 think this is a very difficult subject to explain : certainly these remarks only 
apply to those who have some knowledge (if ever so little) of drawing and 
painting. There are such numberless cards of all kinds published already, 
good and bad, expensive and cheap, that you can scarcely think of adding to 
the number. But I will try to tell you as clearly as I can how I paint my cards, 
and after that suggest some nice little work for you. First of all, I never paint 
flowers (and most of the cards consist of flowers) on white , but invariably on 
tinted paper, which is to be had at several houses. The coloured paper gives the 
advantage of having a background all ready, which on white paper you would 
have to paint in yourself, with a great deal of trouble and labour. Flowers painted 
on white paper without a background have no effect of light and shade, and 
upon them you can never reproduce sunshine; and no flower, if ever so beautifully 
painted on white paper, will have the same charm as one painted a little coarser 
perhaps, but with a gleam of sunlight on it, on a brownish tinted paper. 

Do not arrange your flowers, they will always look more or less stiff, but gather 
a few loosely in your hand, and drop them into a glass or vase, and they will fall 
into the most natural position of themselves. 

Of course you can lend a helping touch here and there. 





270 THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 

Let me just describe a tiny card I have this moment finished and copied 
for you to see. I myself gathered in a park the most lovely moss, a profusion 
of wild flowers, andl little odds and ends of broken pieces of bark and wood, 
coloured with the most delicious yellow and green lichen. 

I then took a plate, laid some moss down at first for a foundation, stuck in a 
whole plant of primroses with four or five flowers, just as it was growing, without 
moving a leaf, a tiny plant of violets then found its place on the right side of the 
primroses, one or two little ferns stuck in as a background, and loosely laid in front 


of the flowers, just as you find it in Nature over and over again, a tiny branch of 
pine-wood, with beautiful lichen on it. 

Then the subject for the painting is all ready; you have your tinted paper 
fastened firmly on a board with drawing pins, and you can begin to pencil your 
outlines. 

I always used for years to do that most carefully; but when you have worked as 
many years as I have you will no longer require to do so, for little pictures like 
these. 

Now comes a most important question—how about the light in the room ? I 
have seen girls paint flowers on a table far from the light, seated in the middle of a 
room, two windows straight before them and one on the right side, the light thus 


A BIRTHDAY CARD DESIGNED BY- THE BARONESS HELGA VON CRAMM. 



























HOW TO PAINT ON CHINA. 


271 


streaming in from every side, throwing lights and shades contrary to each other, 
and above all, the light from the window on the right side throwing the shadow of 
hand, of pencil, or brush full on the paper upon which they were working. And 
with all this they wondered that they could not do a nice picture. I did not 
wonder at all; painting is quite difficult enough without all those inconveniences. 

When I begin to paint my flowers, I am most careful about the light. My 
table is placed close to the window, so that the light falls full on the flowers 
from my left side. In that way the light is also reflected upon the paper. 

If there are two or three windows, just select one which is convenient to you, 
and close the shutters or draw the blinds of the others. You then will have 
only one light shining upon one side only of your flowers, and your work is greatly 
simplified. 

Try to be as true to Nature as possible, and to copy the colours correctly, and 
you will effect something really pretty. 

Now I would advise all who paint a little to do their own Christmas and birth¬ 
day cards. 

Do not make them larger than will go into an envelope. Paint a spray of 
flowers, or a tiny wreath, or any arrangement which may suggest itself to you, and 
afterwards write a text or an appropriate verse upon or under it, or at the side. 
Of course the writing has to be done very neatly and tidily, or it spoils the whole 
card. On the tinted paper you can first write faintly with pencil, and then go over 
it with a pen filled with colour, sepia, or burnt umber. Ink does not look nice. It 
is too hard with the soft colours of the flowers. 

A lovely work is in store for you, and one which will cheer many a sufferer or 
invalid, and bring them the Word of God’s love and peace. 

Of course all of you know the Flower Mission ? Not half enough flowers 
are sent to provide for all the hospitals and workhouses. If you (I mean all those 
girls who paint or are learning) would use a little spare time to paint cards and 
write texts on them, and then send them to the Flower Mission for distribution, 
would not that be a lovely use of your talent ? 

First, you have the pleasure of painting, because that in itself is an intense 
pleasure. 

Secondly, in reading your Bibles, you would always hunt for some text that 
would be suitable for cards; and the whole would be summed up in givmg great 
pleasure and spreading God’s Word, doing a little work for the Master. Once 
more I would add, do not make the cards larger than the usual Christmas cards; 
write the texts very clearly and distinctly, and do not send any soiled or dirty ones, 
thinking that they are good enough for poor people. They must be as neat and 
clean as those to be bought in shops. 


HOW TO PAINT ON CHINA. 

Painting on china, like every other art, has its peculiar attractions and disadvan¬ 
tages. It is one of the most delightful of pursuits, but is beset by difficulties and 
dangers to which no other painting is subject. 

The difficulties are of two kinds : artistic and technical. The former can be 





THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


27 2 



overcome by intelligent and repeated practice 
and the study of good models; the latter may 
be considerably simplified by precautionary 
measures and the choice of materials. 

The greatest disadvantage is the danger 
run in ‘ firing.’ The utmost pains, the highest 
talent cannot prevent the accidents to which 
a china painting is liable during that process. 
To this may be added the evils for which the 
artist is accountable, caused by some mistake 
in colour or injudicious use of mediums. 
The compensating advantages are the attrac¬ 
tion and beauty of the work, the numerous 
articles of use and ornament to which it may 
be applied ; and the fact that once success¬ 
fully fired the painting is indestructible , there¬ 
fore the duration of its beauty is equivalent 
to that of the article on which it has been 
produced. 

Drawing and colouring in china painting 
require observation, knowledge, skill, above 
all, taste. All these qualifications, indeed, are 
needed in the mere choice of a subject, and, 
this decided, their further application will 
give it interest and beauty. 

The ‘ over glaze * or ‘ enamel ’ china 
painting forms the subject of this section, as 
it is by far the most interesting work, and 
can be applied to a variety of purposes, for 
which ‘ under glaze ’ painting is inapplicable. 

Dinner, tea, and dessert services—the 
latter especially, toilet-table ornaments, vases, 
ornamental trays, flower-stands, fancy table 
tops, plates for decorative purposes, plaques 
and medallions for the ornamentation of 
furniture, in fact, everything that can be 
made of china, may be beautified and ren¬ 
dered valuable by painting. Fire-place tiles 
and long earthenware plaques for the front 
and sides of fireplaces are very interesting 
work also, the latter especially being a great 
addition to the beauty of a room. 

Recent inventions and improvements in 
materials have done much to simplify the 
technical difficulties and inconveniences of 
china painting, and considerable time and 
an infinitude of trouble may be saved by 
their adoption. 


















HOW TO PAINT ON CHINA . 


273 



The colours are in powders, or ready mixed in tubes, like those used for oils. 
The former require regrinding with the knife on the palette and mixing with some 
medium ; this is a very tedious and unsatisfactory operation, much time is occupied, 
and it is difficult to grind them sufficiently fine. 

The tube colours, on the contrary, being ready prepared, merely want putting on 
the palette and diluting with the medium selected, as in ordinary oil colours. The 
French colours in tubes are made in every possible shade, and fire most perfectly. 
Many professional artists prefer the use of the powder colours, but for amateurs who 
do not wish to devote the whole of their time to ceramic painting, the simple and 
easily managed tube colours are far preferable. 

The crazing and many other accidents before and during firing are generally 
attributable to the 
medium employed; 
the exact quantity re¬ 
quired and the proper 
consistency of the 
vehicles themselves 
being most difficult to 
judge. It is, in fact, 
a knowledge generally 
acquired from the 
painful experience of 
many ruined or in¬ 
jured paintings. 

The Excelsior me¬ 
diums, which were 
the invention of an 
eminent Art Professor 
for the use of his 
own pupils originally, 
obviate all these diffi¬ 
culties. With these 
the colours may be 
put on as thicklv as 
in oil paintingwithout 
any danger of crazing; 
and another great ad¬ 
vantage, which I be¬ 


lieve this medium alone possesses, is, it may be used to lighten colours that are 
too dark. A little applied with a brush where required, will enable it to be ‘ wiped 
up ’ with a soft cloth, as in water-colours; and to remove colours altogether it is 
far better than the knife. 

There are many varieties of brushes, but if you once use the sable brushes in 
wooden handles, like those used for oils, you will never willingly adopt any other. 
Great care must be taken to keep them clean and soft There is a preparation of 
the mediums I have just spoken of that I always use for the purpose of washing my 
brushes. It keeps them soft for a fortnight, and as the colour sinks at once, leaving 
the liquid quite clear, a small bottle will last many months. 


T 
































274 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Every precaution must be taken to prevent any dust or small hairs settling on 
the painting; these will either ‘ fire in,’ causing the paint to accumulate round 
them ; or bum off*, and leave a white place underneath. Moisture will remove the 
colour altogether, as this till fired remains on the enamelled surface instead of sinking 
in, as with canvas or paper, and great care must be taken in dipping the brush into 
whatever medium you may be using, not to let a drop fall on the painting. The 
minutest drop of turpentine, for instance, would make a clear space as large as a 
florin instantaneously, but with the medium I recommend you need never have so 
treacherous an ally as this in your possession. 

Before commencing to paint see that you have a good and unhazy light, coming 
from the left side; there will then be no shadow from the hand to interfere with the 
work, and the eyes will be spared too much light from the glaze of the china. Your 
colours and all other requisites should be within convenient reach, and the tempera¬ 
ture of the room be warm, as coldness affects the pleasant working of the colours 
and mediums of all kinds. 

Materials. 

China painting is more expensive as to materials than most of the artistic 
accomplishments. The plaques must be of good quality, or they are almost sure to 
break in the firing. The enamel must be without scratch or flaw, or a too great 
heat will blister or crack it. Tiles are by far the best to commence on, as they 
may be purchased from sixpence each, and the surface being flat, they are far easier 
to work on. 

Some of the colours, notably those of which the base is gold, are dear; others 
are much less so; but unfortunately there is great waste in putting out far more 
colour than is required. There is no preventive for this waste, as it is impossible 
to judge exactly. But there is the next best thing, a cure. A drop of the Excelsior 
medium will dissolve paint that may have been left on the palette for two or three 
days, and thus render it as fit for use as if just pressed from the tube. The 
absolute requisites for painting on china, are—a china palette, two palette knives 
(one ivory, the other steel), brushes and dabblers, mediums with which to mix or 
dilute the colours, Indian ink or lithographic chalk for drawing the designs; and 
some piece of china on which the picture is to be painted, and a test tile. 

Classification of Colours. 

The following notes with reference to colours, whether bright or subdued, form a 
most important branch of study in china painting. This broad characteristic must 
be remarked about them: some are warm, others cold, and, by contrast, greatly 
assist each other. If you place a little blue colour next an orange tint, or a little 
green against red, you will find both the colours considerably brightened by the 
juxtaposition. Warm colours are those which partake of red, ochre, yellow; cold 
colours are derived from black or blue, and those known as broken are the simple 
colours mixed with grey. 

The chemical changes produced by firing are so great that the utmost precaution 
must be taken in the blending, and even in the preparation of simple colour. 

Iron plays a very important part in the composition of enamel colours; all 
those with an iron base may safely be mixed with a steel palette knife : for the 
others, an ivory knife is necessary, as they would be injured by the use of steel. 



HOW TO TAINT ON CHINA. 


275 


The colours with an iron base, or of which iron forms one of the component 
parts, are reds, carnations, red browns, yellow browns, browns, ochres, blacks, violet 
of iron, and most of the greys. 

Yellows and greens have iron also, but in smaller quantities. 



The colours requiring the use of an ivory palette knife are carmines, whites, and 
all the colours from gold ; these are, carmines, crimson lake, purples, and o 
gold, light and dark. With reference to these, all carmines are shaded with the 
same tint put on thicker, purnles being used for the strong shadows. Lilacs 
violets are produced with violets of gold, and deep pansy with violets of go 
and a little ultramarine. The complementary or contrasting colours are 

Red . Violet Green. Lemon Yellow. 

Yellow. Indigo. Violet. Ochre. 

Bl„ e Black. Orange. White. 


T 2 





















276 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


A very simple method of judging which is the complementary colour of any 
given tint, is to bear in mind that there are only three primary colours, all others 
being derived from a blending of these; the complementary colour of each such 

combination being the one u/iused in its 



composition. 

For instance, green is made of blue and 
yellow, ergo, the complementary colour 
must be red. Violet is produced from 
blue and red, the complementary colour 
is therefore yellow. While speaking of 
yellow, it is worth while to warn you that 
it should be used sparingly, as it has a 
great faculty for becoming too prominent. 
I have seen several china paintings that did 
not appear in the least too warm in colour 
before firing return from the kiln glaringly 
yellow, and almost as if this had been the 
only colour used. The corrective for this 
is carmine, applied wherever the yellow 
is too striking; if this is judiciously em¬ 
ployed, a second visit to the kiln will most 
probably restore the picture to its proper 
colouring. Red, on the contrary, has a 
disposition to fire out, and must be put 
on stronger than it is intended to appear 
after firing; for instance, in mixing a tint 
for distant mountains, flesh red No. 1 and 
blue green—or, as they are named on the 
tubes, chair rouge No. 1 and vert blue —- 
make a most beautiful aerial grey, but it 
must be made decidedly redder than you 
intend it to remain, or it will infallibly be 
far too blue when fired. In this case, as 
in all others where one colour is too pro¬ 
minent, the only cure is to apply more ot 
the one that has been partly effaced, and 
have the painting fired a second time. 


Subjects. 


Flowers, figures, and landscapes, are 
the subjects generally chosen; the first 
especially are more within the range of 
ordinary amateur work, and a pleasing and 
successful effect is far sooner obtained in this than in either of the other 
branches. 


After copying from good models for a short time, the artist should endeavour 
to originate her own designs; the first step to this, and a very interesting one. is to 
























































































HOW TO PAINT ON CHINA. 


277 


select portions of various designs and group them together ; a little practice in this 
will lead to the arrangement of designs from Nature. 

Figures require great delicacy of touch and colouring in painting the flesh tints 
and very accurate drawing. A group of flowers would not be much injured by a 
rose leaf being a quarter of an inch lower on the stem than was intended, but a 
similar mistake with a feature or a limb would be disastrous ! 

For flesh tints, the following proportions of colour thinly put on obtain a very 
good result: — 

Flesh No. 1 .. 1 part. 

Ivory yellow .. 2\ parts. 

N.B.—Three parts of yellow to one of the other are often advised, but the 
proportions I mention fire an admirable colour. The lips and cheeks will require 
flesh No. 1, with a touch of capucine red added, or carmine No. 1 and a little 
capucine red. For the darker portions of the face, add greys and flesh No. 2, and 
the grey parts will require a little blue green in the finishing details. 

Landscape painting on china is generally far less successful than flowers 01 
figures; the great difficulty being to represent the atmospherical effects caused by 
the gradation of distance, and to imitate the texture, so to speak, of grass, 
foreground, water, sky, distant mountains, and the infinite variety of detail 
in foliage. 

In fact, I may safely say more artistic knowledge and appreciation of the effects 
of colour, are required for landscape, in china painting, than in either of the other 
branches, and to paint such subjects artistically is impossible without having already 
attained some degree of proficiency in oil or water-colour landscapes. 

A landscape painting on china from Nature is of course impracticable. The 
artist must take her sketch in oil or water-colours, and copy it on china; the least 
spot of dust, the tiniest hair on the surface, is so inimical to the picture when 
firing that out-of door work is impossible. The landscape colours and combinations 
are as follows :— 

Foregrounds: ochres, yellow, brown, sepia, dark brown, ivory yellow, silver 
yellow, and the greys. 

Trees and herbage, near and distant. Foreground, trees and herbage : warm 
green colours; grass green —vert pre —with silver yellow, makes the brightest and 
sunniest green. Brown green added to the above will deepen and subdue the 

colour. Dark green —vert noir -will deepen to the darkest shade, in fact, if put 

on thickly will make it nearly black. For the middle distance add to the above 
blue, in the order named according to distance and lightness—azure, blue green, 
and dark blue —bleu riche. 

Greys added to the foregoing will greatly assist in reducing the brightness of 
colours, whether, red, brown, or green, and thus many varieties and degrees of 
tint can be achieved. 

For distant hills and clouds beautiful effects may be obtained with capucine red 
and azure blue, or vert bleu and flesh No. 1. 

Test Tile. 

A home-made test tile is invaluable, and should always be at hand for reference 
till the artist has its lessons by heart. 

It is thus made: Take a large tile and divide it with black lines into squares of 




278 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


three-quarters of an inch. In these paint as smoothly as possible a light shade of 
any colour you can think of, and write the name with a china pen under or above 
each. When this is perfectly dry (it can be put in the kitchen oven to achieve this 
more quickly), go over two-thirds of each square again, which will give you a darker 
shade on the part thus covered. When quite dry, another application over the 
upper half of the darker two-thirds will naturally give a still deeper tone. When 
the test tile is returned from the kiln you will at once be able to see the change of 
each colour that may be produced by firing, and also learn by what degrees to 
produce the graduations of tint required. 

Dabbling. 

The first experiments in china painting must be * dabbling.’ This is the 
technical term for the method of producing the perfectly smooth surfaces of colour 
we see on enamel china paintings, not only as backgrounds but in many details of 
the designs. 

This is a work requiring both time and patience, and you must not despair ot 
ultimate success on finding that your colour does not soon become so smooth as 
you desire. A six-inch tile will take quite a quarter of an hour’s dabbling to 
bring it to perfection. If the colour or a portion of it become dry, the dabbling it 
smooth is impossible, therefore the whole ground has to be taken out and painted 
in again. This aggravating failure is rendered impossible by the use of the 
Excelsior special dabbling medium, which will in an ordinary state keep moist 
a whole day, and can (if required) be kept sufficiently so for two or three; an 
immense advantage for the dabbling of large plaques. 

The process of dabbling is performed in the following manner: Put as much 
colour as you deem sufficient for the whole surface to be covered on your palette, 
and mix it with a little of the dabbling medium to the proper consistency, by the 
aid of your palette knife. 

Then, after seeing that your tile is perfectly clean and dry, take a large brush 
and thoroughly cover it with colour as evenly as possible. This should be done 
smoothly and rapidly. Take the larger-sized dabbler—the askew one is much 
preferable—and holding the end lightly between the thumb and second finger keep 
your brush quite perpendicular, and keep patting the colour with it very quickly 
and lightly all over the surface ; then do this in different directions, to equalise the 
colour; if this is darker in one place than another, put the dabbler on that part, 
and gradually spread the colour by working away from it. Beginners are apt to 
wipe their dabblers every now and then when the colour has accumulated on 
them ; the consequence is it is removed altogether, instead of being simply carried 
from one place to another. If the colours be too light in any portion, the brush 
should be dipped in the paint on the palette, and dabbled on where required. 

The smaller dabbler is used to bring the work to perfection. 

Dark red and brown are the easiest colours for amateurs to commence with, 
and I cannot too strongly advise a few days spent on dabbling only before 
commencing any design; however beautifully the latter may be finished, an 
unevenly laid background will destroy the whole effect, as it will, of course, fire in 
patches, instead of presenting a perfectly smooth enamelled surface. 

Though it is impossible to give in writing lessons which would enable you to 
finish a picture artistically, a few preliminary hints as to commencing one will be of 



HOW TO PAINT ON CHINA. 


279 


use, and enable you to advance some little way on the path to success. Then, if 
you can take even a few lessons from some good teacher, your whole time may be 
given to the finishing details of artistic work, instead of spending a portion of it in 
acquiring the rudiments. We will suppose, therefore, for argument’s sake, that you 
have conquered the difficulties of dabbling and wish to paint a spray of flowers on 
a plate. 

First select your background. Should this be dark, brighter colours will be 
required in the designs; but if the fond be white or of light colour, the flowers, &c., 
must be paler, to prevent harshness. 

Black —noir d'ivoire , brown —Brim fonce , No. 4, and vert noir , the darkest green, 
are the deepest shades, and throw up flowers or fruit most effectively. In lighter 
colours, charming tints may be produced by combinations; and great care must be 
taken to mix all required at once, for the matching it would be most difficult. 
There are colours already mixed and specially prepared for grounds, those 
beautiful soft tones we see on china. These are about twenty in number, and 
range from the warmest to the coldest tints, so that there is a large selection of 
colours to choose from, the fluxes and oxides added make them fuse very easily 
and glaze admirably. 

If the background be light, the design should first be sketched on the china 
with Indian ink, making as fine and correct a line as possible. When this is dry, 
which will be in a very short time, the whole surface may be painted and dabbled, 
the outline showing through the background. If this, on the contrary, be dark, it 
must be put on and dabbled smooth before the design is made. When quite dry 
the latter may be sketched on with red or blue, so as to show distinctly. 

The whole of the background comprised within the outlines of the design must 
be cleared off thoroughly before the first painting is commenced. This may be 
done by scraping it off with a knife, technically called ‘ picking out,’ or by a plan I 
much prefer, namely, applying a little of the Excelsior medium on a brush to the 
portion within the outlines, and wiping it and the colour off together with a soft 
cloth. Whatever method is adopted for clearing out the portion to be left white, it 
must leave the outlines very distinctly and correctly shaped, and the space to 
be painted on perfectly free from colour. It is an admirable plan to have the back¬ 
ground fired before painting the design; a slip of the brush or any mistake may 
then be remedied or corrected without any injury to the background, as would other¬ 
wise be the case. The knowledge of this impunity also enables the artist to work 
with far less nervousness. 

There are many amateurs to whom correct drawing is a great difficulty, and 
these are in consequence compelled to trace the design. This is done in the 
ordinary manner. The tracing paper is laid on the design to be copied, which is 
then outlined in pencil : a transferring paper, prepared for the purpose, in blue, 
black, or red, is put on the china, and the tracing paper placed over it; a blunt- 
pointed instrument, such as a knitting-needle or ivory pin, is then pressed along 
the lines, and when the papers are removed the outlines are found distinctly 
marked; if on the china itself, or a light ground, they may be gone over with 
Indian ink : but if on a dark background some light colour must, of course, be 
employed. 

I have earnestly endeavoured to compress into this limited space the 
preliminary knowledge absolutely necessary of acquirement, and also to give every 



28o 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


possible assistance in overcoming the technical difficulties of china painting. 
Those of an artistic character are the same as in any other branch of painting, and 
can only be conquered by assiduous practice and intelligent study. 

I cannot impress on you too strongly the advantage of seeing good models. 

A visit, when practicable, to the Ceramic Art Galleries in Regent Street will be 
of the greatest benefit Not only will it enable you to see the best professional and 
amateur work, but it will give you an admirable lesson on design and colour. 

The beautiful paintings, of which there are illustrations on the preceding pages, 
were all exhibited by ladies at the above galleries. 

The group of chrysanthemums will not, I think, be easily forgptten by any who 
had the good fortune to see it, and though to reach such perfection is given but 
to very, very few, the fact that it can be achieved should encourage all to attempt, 
persevere, and never be contented while it is possible to improve. 

Another thing of the utmost importance is the necessity for assiduous and 
consecutive practice. In china painting, as in all other arts and pursuits, even one 
hour each day is worth far more than several hours of hard work alternated with 
intervals of idleness. 


HOW TO PAINT UPON SILK AND SATIN. 

We live in an age when all the world is doing something, and every girl is just as 
busy over her particular occupations as her father, which, though they may not 
have much result in the money market, are as important to the worker in their way 
—first, because they tend to keep her mind active and cheerful, and secondly, if 
such a result is required, they will in the end help her to support her part of the 
family burden. There is no greater enemy to vanity and sin than wholesome hard 
work and the feeling of usefulness it encourages : and we ought all to be thankful 
that we live in times when occupation is admired, instead of in the bygone days of 
gentility, when a lady was considered to lose caste if she attempted to be useful, 
and was therefore compelled to be idle from the force of public opinion. 

Now that drawing and painting have made such rapid strides among the 
educated classes, they have become the means, besides being remunerative, of 
introducing much beauty into our homes. Many a girl can design and paint 
prettily for decorative purposes whose finished pictures might not be considered 
sufficiently good for exhibition, and this talent will add much to the uniqueness of 
a sitting-room, or of articles of dress, and will relieve both from the bugbear of all 
true artistic natures namely, universal sameness in attire and furniture. Rooms 
and dress generally give some index to their possessor’s mind, and quiet originality 
or picturesqueness in both is more appreciated than the most expensive copies of 
another’s thought. 

Painting upon silk or satin is a favourite mode of decoration, and one that 
can be used in many ways about a room. The best objects to ornament are 
curtain borders, mantel and table covers, screens, piano-backs and brackets. We 
have seen extremely elegant screens designed to fill in the front of a grate in 
summer time ornamented with painting upon satin. The screen is made as high 




HOW TO PAINT UPON SILK AND SATIN. 


281 


as the grate and not quite as broad, and looks like a simple square frame of black 
wood an inch and a half broad, supported upon two black feet. The satin is 
stretched within the framing and protected at the back with a deal board, and the 
make of the screen is so simple that any working carpenter would turn it out 
at a very moderate price. Brackets against the wall can also be devised in 
an inexpensive way by using the same kind of framing for the outside, filling the 
centre with black or coloured silk painted with flowers, and making a small shelf 
to hold ornaments across the centre. A back will be required for the bracket, both 
to keep the silk clean and to help to support the shelf. The other articles that can 
be painted on need no description as to mounting. The best articles of dress to 
ornament are fans, muffs, parasols, pockets, and trimmings down the front of 
a dinner dress. 

We will now turn to the actual painting. The first thing to be done after 
deciding upon the object to be decorated is to fix upon a design and upon the silk 
or satin. The flower selected should be sketched out carefully upon cartridge- 
paper and made perfect as far as its main outlines upon that, ready to be transferred 
to the material, it being a mistake to draw directly upon that, unless the artist can 
do so without any erasures, as mistakes and corrections will show if left untouched, 
and when taken out bring up the surface. The choice of the silk should be a 

careful one, as much of the beauty of the painting will depend upon a good 

selection. A good, close-made plain silk is the best; corded and ribbed textures 
are liable to greasiness, and the paint often cracks when laid thickly upon them, 
particularly when they are used in fan painting. Select the colour of the silk 
according to the use that is to be made of the article, choosing deep rubies, blues, 

and browns for furniture, and pale pinks, lemons, citrons, creams, gold colours, 

and greys for fans and dress trimmings. Avoid a black foundation, if possible, as 
the tint is too hard for a flower background, and other colours can now be pur¬ 
chased in such deep, rich tones that black can easily be discarded. Always buy 
more of the silk than necessary, as a margin to stretch it by is required, and a little 
spare piece is very useful to try colours and effects upon. The silk is first prepared 
to receive the paint, and to do this it is necessary to take away any greasiness in 
its texture that would resist the application of paint by a wash or sizing, which is 
applied after the silk has been stretched either upon a drawing-board or in an 
open frame. The open frame is the best to use, as then the silk is free upon both 
sides, and the washes dry better; but as each frame should fit the article stretched, 
it is not always convenient. Four pieces of wood made to fit into each other and 
to expand by means of pegs and holes after the manner of woolwork frames, are 
good, while a little ingenuity can manufacture a frame the size required out of four 
strong, straight pieces of deal. When the silk is stretched upon a drawing-board a 
piece of white paper should be put between it and the board. Stretch the silk in 
both cases very tightly, and fasten it down with drawing pins half an inch apart. 
There are many recipes for sizing, each painter having a favourite size, and all the 
following are good—namely, isinglass, gelatine, and white of egg—if the worker 
will only put them on properly. For gelatine or isinglass put an ounce of either 
in water enough to cover it, and allow it to soak for an hour. Take it out and 
pour over it a pint of boiling water and mix until the isinglass is quite dissolved, 
and run it through coarse muslin, so that no sediment or undissolved matter is left 
in it. While still hot, apply this to the silk with a sponge, rubbing it thoroughly 




282 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


over the surface, so that every part receives it, and an even coating is given. Dry 
the silk by rubbing it gently down with an old piece of white silk, and dry the back 
of the silk in the same way. If there is any doubt about the size not having been 
put entirely over the surface, or if the silk slackens in the frame, stretch the silk 
more tightly and re-size it. When using white of egg, only take the liquid part, 
which sponge well into the silk so as thoroughly to penetrate, rub this dry with an 
old silk rag, and let no wet remain on the surface, as any place left damp will 
change in colour. 

When the surface is dry, draw in the design selected, using a fine pencil, 
or transfer it from the sketch by laying a light-coloured transfer paper on the 
material, and then the sketch, and pin both down. Then put down the frame so 
that the silk is supported by some hard surface, and with a fine knitting-needle 
trace the chief outlines of the design through to the silk. Use the least prominent 
shade of transfer-paper, and rub it over with bread to remove any superfluous 
colour before using it. Never attempt to trace more than outlines, and lay these 
in as lightly as possible. Trace in the design so that a spray of flowers starts from 
one side of the silk and flows towards the other, rather than always starting from 
the centre; but endeavour to place the greatest mass of flower or colour near the 
centre, while upon the side left plain relieve any blankness by inserting a bird, 
butterfly, dragon-fly, or tufts of reeds, grasses, or single flowers. When preparing 
a fan, stretch the silk evenly in a square frame and draw a half-circle with a pair of 
compasses upon it, and see that the horizontal line at the bottom is even with the 
line of the silk, and make it correspond with the outer radiants of the fan, draw a 
straight line through the centre of the fan with white chalk, and bring your design 
across this. The lines of the radiants of the fan can be drawn in white chalk on 
the silk, as they rather help the designer to place the outline. 

Painting upon silk or satin is done in two ways—one in which the colours used 
are simple water-colours, and the effect obtained dependent upon the softness of 
the shading and the beauty of the design; and the second, where body-colour is 
freely used, and the effect attained with broad washes and colouring. For the 
first kind of painting: After the silk has been stretched, sized, and the outline put 
on it, use the very best water-colours, and put in all the shadows of the design with 
neutral tint, to which a little of the colour of the flower or leaf has been added, 
then lay on a wash of each of the chief colours, and soften these into the 
shadows with the deeper tints of the flowers. Make the highest lights by 
mixing Chinese white with the colour, and deepen and bring up the darkest 
shadows. In copying natural flowers, be careful that no hard and dark 
edges are given to leaves or petals, and always look for and paint the bright 
light that is to be found near a shadow, particularly where curves are made; and 
also be careful to show the underlight that will be found where a leaf curves over 
and the under part of it is in shade. The correct colouring of the lights and shades 
will give the necessary roundness and boldness to this kind of painting, which 
is really water-colour flower painting, and whose effect, though not so brilliant as 
body-colour painting, is more lasting and less glaring. Most of the beautiful French 
fans are painted in this way, as the colours so applied will not crack and split 
Put a little sugar into the water used, add a small quantity of gum water to any 
colour that will not dry—never use gamboge—a drop of Eau de Cologne to colours 
that are too dry, and a little oxgall to bring up their brilliant tints; but in using 




283 


__ HOW TO PAINT UPON SILK AND SA TIN 

the latter, if too much is put on the opposite effect will be the result, as it will 
deaden, not improve the shades. Only paint with plain water-colours upon light 
silk, such as bunches of violets upon pinky creams, carnations of various shades 
upon lemons and citrons, Gloire de Dijon roses or Austrian briars upon yellows, 
whites, creams; pale pink flowers upon Eau de Nil; and groups executed entirely 
in terra cotta or Payne’s grey upon lighter shades of their own colours. If gilding 
is to be added to any part of the picture, paint that part first over with cadmium, 
and then gild with the best cake gold or shell gold, no other kinds being good 
enough. 

Body-colour painting is used chiefly for furniture decoration, and for any 
colouring that is wanted of a bold and effective character without much work. 
After the silk has been stretched and sized, and the design drawn, paint over the 
whole of the design—if upon a dark silk—with a wash of Chinese white. Take 
the Chinese white (sold in bottles, and not in tubes) and mix it with water in 
which a little gum has b£fen put. Lay the wash on quite smoothly, and when it is 
dry, should the white at all peel, put on a fresh coat, to which more gum has been 
added. When the white is quite dry (it should be sufficiently opaque not to show 
the silk through, and yet not so thick as to rise above the silk) paint over it. For 
faded leaves, and leaves painted grey colour and in shadow, lay over the white a 
simple light red, Payne’s grey, madder brown, or olive lake tint, according to their 
shade, mixing them with Chinese white, and putting them all over the surface of 
the leaf in one continuous shade. For leaves in the foreground make three shades 
of green—a dark, a medium, and a light. Put on the dark first and shade to the 
light, but do not attempt any elaborate colouring. Mix all with white, and rely 
for effect upon the broadness of colouring and the brilliancy. Tint the leaves in 
various shades of green, but use only three shades to each. Paint the flowers in 
the same way, making white the highest light, and leading up to it, but use such a 
high light sparingly, or the result will be chalky. Leave the painting until quite 
dry, then strengthen the deepest shadows with a dark colour unmixed with white, 
and to which add a little gum as a glaze, and paint over with a faint wash of the 
colour of the flower, unmixed with white, any part of the composition that looks 
too white or glaring, and is not sufficiently blended. Use the glycerine, oxgall, and 
Eau de Cologne for the same purposes with the paints as before mentioned. 

Painting upon satin in water-colours differs but little from painting upon silk. 
The satin should be chosen of a fine and good make, with a smooth and even 
surface; it should be stretched, and gone over with a thin solution of isinglass, 
most carefully applied over its surface, unless the medium known as Veloutine is 
used, which contains a mucilage that counteracts the greasiness of the material, 
and so dispenses with the sizing. Extra care is needed when tracing the design 
on to the satin, as the carbonised part of the paper is apt to dirty so delicate a 
material, and paper must always be kept under the hand during the painting, to 
counteract the natural heat. When the design has been traced, mix Chinese 
white with Veloutine instead of water, and lay it as a wash over all the parts to be 
painted, and when this is dry paint over it in the same way as in body-colour 
painting upon silk, adding the Veloutine to each shade, and dispensing with 
all other mediums, except water. 

Oil colours are sometimes applied to satin and silk backgrounds; they look 
well if only coarse and large work is attempted, such as sunflowers, bulrushes, fox- 




284 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


gloves; but water-colours are better for fine work. They are laid on as in oil 
painting, and require no preparation, turpentine being used for their medium. 
Oil colours look to greater advantage upon stiffer materials than silk or satin, such 
as coloured and strongly made twills and sheeting that are not fluffy, but are hard 
and smooth, and partake of the nature of canvas. High three-fold screens of navy 
blue sacking, painted with oil colours, are most effective, the background being 
supplied by the colour of the material, and the panels of the screen painted with 
hollyhocks, foxgloves, and iris, or with birds of tropical plumage ; and brackets can 
be painted in the same way. 




CHAPTER V. 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS: ELOCUTION. 



LEARNING BY HEART. 




































































































































































































CHAPTER V.—ACCOMPLISHMENTS : ELOCUTION. 


HOW TO RECITE A POEM. 

By the Rev. Canon Fleming, B.D., Chaplain-in-Ordinary to the Queen. 

UR girls are frequently taught how to sing a song. We 
cannot all sing, but we can all recite, if not faultlessly, 
yet pleasingly; for God has given to most of us Voice 
and Mind, and by the application of these we are enabled 
ourselves to have mental enjoyment, and also to impart 
that enjoyment to others, which in most cases doubles 
our own. The voice is the legitimate source of a 
speaker’s fascination. A musical voice can carry its 
persuasive eloquence to the heart, and there is no greater 
spell than the silver tones of the human voice, pouring 
into our delighted ear the notes of our own language. 
Yet few voices unaided by labour will ever arrest the 
attention of listeners. If it is necessary for the voice to 
undergo daily practice in order to sing a song, do not 
let our young friends suppose that no practice is needed 
to recite a poem. Daily practice alone developes the memory, strengthens the voice, 
making it liquid and pliable, and gives command of the breath, which is quite as indis¬ 
pensable to a speaker as to a singer. You will not, therefore, learn to recite a poem 
in a day or a week. Like every creation of art, it is the fruit of persevering labour. 

I. Choice of Subject .—The first thing to be thought of for a recitation is the 
choice of a subject, and this should be made with discriminating care. Your range 
of choice from grave to gay is almost limitless, so rich is the field of literature opened 
up to us all now. There can be no objection to innocent humour which elicits a 
hearty laugh, for ‘To everything there is a season—a time to weep, and a time to 
laugh.’ (Ecclesiastes iii.) But remember that your object is to elevate rather 
than to amuse. Any one can amuse; few can instruct. Seek always to lead your 
hearers up to the thoughts of the good and great. Do not stoop to that which is 
merely frivolous, nor insult them with that which is childish. Choose your subject 
thoughtfully and well. 

II. Me?nory .—Next to the choice of a subject comes memory. This is a thing 
of primary importance. Memory is the faculty which God has given to most of us 
in full share, by which we are capable of learning: retaining what we learn : and 
reproducing what we retain. Memory is therefore a wondrous power. 

‘ Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, 

Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain : 

Awake but one, and lo ! a myriad rise ! 

Each stamps its image as the other dies.’ 










288 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Sometimes our girls are discouraged by feeling or imagining they have a bad 
memory. But for our comfort memory operates in obedience to established and 
permanent law, and if it be only properly trained and strengthened by constant 
exercise in youth it becomes a retentive and reproductive power, by which we pass 
from thought to thought, word to word, and sentence to sentence, like the connect¬ 
ing links of a chain, with rapidity, precision, and certainty. The many instances of 
remarkable memory that have been recorded are an instructive commentary upon 
the power of this faculty. The chess-player, for example, who, without seeing the 
board, can play several games with different opponents at the same time, keeping in 
his mind’s eye the exact position of every piece in each game, exhibits a grasp of 
memory perfectly astonishing. Yet this difficult art is the result, not only of a 
retentive memory, but of great practice. Themistocles, we are told, could call by 
name the twenty thousand citizens of Athens; Cyrus, it is said, knew the name of 
every soldier in his army; Seneca could repeat two thousand names in the order in 
which they were spoken; Dr. Kidston affirms that if the Bible were lost Professor 
Lawson could restore the whole of it from memory. It is said of Pascal that ‘ he 
forgot nothing of what he had read, heard, or seen.’ Such remarkable memories 
excite our surprise; yet it is well for our young friends to remember that they are 
not miraculous, but show in an extraordinary manner what may be done by the use 
and exercise of the established laws that preside over memory. If this be true, our 
young readers possess a large, unexpended reserve of memory, which they have not 
yet called into action. 

Having then selected a subject which combines strength of thought with smooth¬ 
ness of style, let the student learn it by heart perfectly. Without this you will never 
do any justice to your subject or to yourself. You must know your subject so 
perfectly that you may have nothing to think of but its delivery, and may feel free 
to attend to other points, such as expression, emphasis, and tone. Half the 
mistakes people make and half the nervousness they feel arise from not thoroughly 
knowing their subject. 

III. Delivery. —From this we pass on to the last point, Delivery. Thucydides, 
when asked the three requisites of oratory, is said to have replied, ‘ The first is 
delivery, the second delivery, and the third delivery.’ Our young friends cannot 
pay too much attention to this point. 

Let the body and head be erect and free, but not constrained. I purposely 
abstain from entering on the subject of gesture, not because it is of no importance, 
but because it would occupy too much space. Deliver your recitation without 
swaying the body to and fro; stand still, and move only the head when you have 
occasion to introduce a second or a third character. Use your hands sparingly but 
gracefully, to illustrate your subject as you go along. 

Open the teeth in speaking, and take especial care to pronounce each word 
distinctly, so that your words shall fall like new coins from the mint, each with its 
own clear ring; every final consonant uttered, and each word receiving its true but 
natural emphasis. 

Emphasis is of such vital importance that almost everything in reading or 
reciting may be said to hinge on it. On this point, I always tell students they must 
‘ think for themselves.’ First make sure of the meaning of your author, then convey 
that meaning to your hearers. You must yourself understand and feel before you 
can throw intelligence and deep feeling into every word you utter; and you will 



HO W TO RECITE A POEM ,. 


289 


recite well just in proportion as you feel what you recite. Emphasis, true and just, 
may be called the ‘faithful rendering’ of language. To attempt to convey the 
meaning of emphasis, I will take an example from the best book of illustration in 
the world, the Bible. ‘And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared 
to take of his own flock and of his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man that 
was come unto him; but he took the poor man’s lamb, and dressed it for the man 
that was come to him.’ (2 Sam. xii. 4.) A careful student will at once mark the 
obviously emphatic words, viz., ‘traveller,’ ‘rich,’ ‘spared,’ ‘own’ (twice), ‘poor,’ and 
‘ lamb ’; but unless she is very careful she may overlook ‘ //,’ which is the most 
important word in the whole verse. In the matter of emphasis, expression, and 
intonation, oral teaching is needful when it can be had, and the opportunity of 
following, though not with servile imitation, the best models you can hear. 

If on these three points—(I.) Choice of Subject, (II.) Memory, (III.) Delivery—I 
have said enough to induce our readers to take up the delightful art of recitation, my 
object in writing this paper will be answered. Human accomplishments must not 
be over-valued or misplaced. Yet we urge girls to cultivate every talent, and stir up 
every gift that is in them, that they may use them for God and for good. 

I should be grieved if I have said a word to set any young student on the wrong 
course, or helped to make any who reads this paper stilted or unnatural. Avoid all 
‘ tricks of speech ’; avoid ‘ mannerism.’ Get some one at home to be your audience, 
and to act both as critic and friend, pointing out to you whatever in your recitation 
seems to be either strange or unnatural; and have the good sense to take the hints 
given you, and try to correct your faults. Be natural; be yourself. Cultivate your 
own powers, gathering help from every good source within your reach. But never 
try to be other than yourself. ‘ The highest art is to conceal art.’ Speak so naturally 
that your words may go from the heart to the heart. 

Archbishop Tillotson, who has left imperishable memorials of his excellence as a 
preacher, as well as traditional reports of his voice and delivery as a speaker, 
regarded it as the highest compliment ever paid him when, on descending from the 
pulpit, he overheard a countryman, who had come to London to hear him, ask his 
friend, with evident surprise, ‘ Is that your great Archbishop ? Why, he talks just 
like one of ourselves ! ’ 


U 



CHAPTER VI.—HEALTH. 

HOW TO BE HEALTHY. 

By Medicus. 



NCE upon a time—as fairy tales commence—once upon 
a time, long, long before either you or I was born, a 
medical man, or ‘ leech ’ as he was then called, was 
looked upon as a very mysterious being indeed. He 
was possessed of, or supposed to be possessed of, a large 
amount of ancient lore and knowledge, the fruits of 
which any one who cared to consult him might freely 
partake of, but never dare he touch or taste of the phy¬ 
sician’s tree of knowledge itself. This man, this leech, 
used to dress like a wizard, and surrounded himself with 
strange-shaped bottles and vases, inscribed with caba¬ 
listic characters and devices, and perhaps filled with 
ghastly and ‘ uncanny ’ looking reptiles. He dabbled in 
alchemy, did not deny the study of the darker sciences, 
his prescriptions were shrouded in the gloom of dog- 
Latin, and his physic was nasty to look at and nauseous to taste; while the older and 
uglier the man was the more he seemed to be respected. 

But these days are past and gone for ever; medical science is now no longer 
darkened by superstition nor shaded in ignorance. It stalks into the open, where 
the sun shines, and courts investigation, and challenges inquiry. 

And the physician of the present day is quite a different individual from the 
mysterious medical man of the past. Children do not fear him, young folks like 
him, he dresses like a modern, talks like a human being, and not like a ghoul, and 
makes a very good addition to an evening party or conversazione, and often comes 
in exceedingly handy for lawn tennis. 

And no doctor nowadays treats a case at haphazard or blindfolded; he prescribes, 
too, only the medicines with the properties of which he is thoroughly well acquainted. 
His aim is to be exact, and exactness and simplicity are always combined. 

Before, then, you read another line, I wish you to take my word for it, if you 
will, that the study of medicine is by no mean a dry one; it is the reverse, it is a 
most fascinating one. 1 do not positively recommend it to girls, but I am very much 
mistaken indeed if it will do them any harm to learn the few and simple facts about 
medicine which I will lay before them in these short and simple remarks. They will 
not overburden the memory, and it is just possible the knowledge of them may come 
in very handy some day, and help to raise from a bed of sickness some dear relative 
or friend. 

Most of you know the value of fresh air as a means for keeping the body healthy 
and vigorous; let me just say one word regarding it as a curative agent. Although 











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HEALTH. 


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pure air should be admitted most plentifully into the chambers of the invalid, it 
is, perhaps, in long lingering cases of illness where the benefits derivable from it 
are most noticeable, while on those just recovering from recent illness the good 
effects of fresh air seem little short of marvellous. And the reason for this is not 
far to seek. There are two sets of blood vessels in the body. One set comprises 
the arteries, and they flow from the heart, taking pure blood for the nourishment of 
every part of the body; the veins comprise the other set, and they flow back from 
every part of the body to the heart and lungs, and they bring there the impure or 
used-up blood, in order that it may pass through the lungs and be therein once 
more rendered pure. And what does this impure blood contain which requires 
separation? It contains various matters taken up from the body, and which Nature 
must get rid of—among others carbon. 

Now this carbon, if left in the blood, acts more or less as a poison; but see what 
happens to it when it comes in contact with the fresh air which we breathe; it is 
united with oxygen, one of the component parts of the air, without which no life 
could exist in the world. It unites with this gas, and becomes a gas itself (carbonic 
acid gas), and flies off in the air we expel from our lungs. Fresh air, then, is needed 
to burn off, as it were, all the deleterious matter that exists in our blood, and which, 
if only even partially retained, renders one dull, drowsy, apathetic, and peevish, if not 
decidedly ill. 

So pure air is the beauty of health, and the quintessence of comfort and hap¬ 
piness. But if people who are well have need of this great physician of Nature, does 
it not stand to reason that those who are sick, or convalescent, and whose blood is 
more impure than yours or mine, need pure air more? Let those testify to the 
beneficial effects of this medicine of medicines, who, on recovering from some severe 
illness, have taken a drive along some breezy cliff or headland on a summer’s day. 
Did not appetite revive? Did not all the world seem brighter and clearer than 
before, and the morbid and melancholy forebodings of the sick chamber give place 
to a feeling of newness of life, causing you to feel so quietly contentedly happy 
and comfortable that you would not have cared to exchange places with a queen ? 

Now, averse as I am to the use of proverbs, more especially hackneyed ones, I 
cannot here refrain from repeating one to which, as regards medicine, a good deal of 
truth is attached : namely, ‘ Prevention is better than cure.’ If people knew what the 
things are which usually bring about illness or disease, methinks they would do the 
best they could to avoid them. If I tell you some of these, and try in simple language 
to explain their ‘ why ’ and their ‘ wherefore,’ and if you remember what I say, you 
will indeed have read to much profit. 

Here is something worth knowing. If, say, fifty people are shipwrecked on an 
almost desert and very unhealthy island, and all are exposed to the same disease- 
producing causes, exposure to wet, to obnoxious vapours, and to cold and privation, 
and forty of these fifty fall sick, it does not by any means follow that they will suffer 
from the same complaints. Indeed, hardly any three of their illnesses will be the 
same, and ten out of the fifty, as we have seen, escape scot free. And why, you may 
ask, is this ? It is simply because the causes of disease to which they were each and 
all exposed have a habit of seeking out the weakest part in each individual, and 
attacking that. Thus exposure to cold, which might produce inflammation in the 
lungs in one person, would bring on an attack of rheumatism in another. 

We learn from this that the best plan to avoid illness, and pass unscathed through 



294 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


the midst of spreading sickness, is to keep the body healthy and the mind cheerful. 
You have heard what a happy immunity medical men and kind district visitors have 
from many diseases, how they can mingle freely with fever-stricken patients, and 
pass unharmed through wards polluted with plague and pestilence. Is it, think you, 
because they bear charmed lives or carry about them some prophylactic that protects 
them, or amulet that shields them from the daggers of death? Yes; but the pro¬ 
phylactic is attention to all the ordinary rules of health; the amulet is a hardy 
constitution engendered by so doing. When medical men do fall victims to the 
disorders they have been fighting against on behalf of others, it is generally after 
they have been thoroughly worn out, and their systems weakened by fatigue and 
long watching. And from this fact again we may learn a lesson. 

What are the things which, taken together, tend to keep an individual up to par, 
up to her or his best, in body and mind ? This question is easily answered. They 
are chiefly these : early rising , the bath, exercise, pure air, and good water, tempera?ice 
in eating and drinking, work to keep mind and body employed, a contented mind ,, 
and sound sleep , which latter is the invariable reward of a day well spent. 

Fortify your bodies, then, strengthen your systems by regularity of living, and 
your guerdon will be this—strength and beauty, that true beauty which is born of 
health, and is independent of the allurements of a well-furnished toilet table. 

Extremes of heat and cold are very likely to produce illnesses of many kinds, and 
both should be guarded against to the best of one’s ability. Heat causes languor, 
depression, and faintness, feelings with which we were all pretty well acquainted 
during the hottest days of summer-time. Exposure to the sun’s rays is not 
only dangerous, but at times fatal. It is far better, however, if shade can be obtained, 
to be out of doors than in on a sultry day, because while heat depresses one, the 
fresh air counteracts its evil effects, and keeps the body in tone. 

Exposure to cold and damp and wet is even more dangerous, for this reason, the 
surface of the body gets chilled, and the blood leaves it, and is driven in upon 
the internal and vital organs, interfering with the performance of their duties, and 
sometimes causing inflammation itself. 

Let us take the familiar instance of a common cold : the lungs are lined through¬ 
out the immense extent of their surface with exactly the same kind of moist skin or 
membrane that covers the inside of the lips and cheeks. When, on account of 
exposure to cold, the blood is driven in upon this surface, it becomes reddened and 
irritable, and more moisture is exuded than is needed; it is the accumulation of this 
moisture which makes one cough. Wet or damp feet are injurious so far as they 
cause the blood to be chilled, for all the blood of the body passes through the feet 
once in about three minutes or less; if, then, the feet are damp or wet or cold, does 
it not seem just like running your blood through a refrigerator? 

Cold applied to the whole body at one time is not so dangerous as sitting in a 
draught and chilling one portion of it, for in the former case there is a general and 
uniform lowering of the system, which will be followed by a reaction; in the latter 
the balance of healthy circulation is lost. 

Want of exercise is a fruitful source of ill-health. Without it the wheels of life 
seem to clog, no organ does its duty properly, and if the seeds of disease are 
sown or breathed into a body weakened from want of exercise, it will find plenty to 
feed upon. 

The want of good refreshing sleep tells wofully upon the constitutions of both 



HEALTH. 


295 


young and old, for it is during sleep that the nerves get recruited, and that new life 
and energy is instilled into blood and brain and sinew. 

Too much hard work and over-study are both sure to weaken the body, and 
prepare it for the reception of any infection or passing ailment. Anxiety and anger 
and grief, and violent emotions of all kinds, cause the body to lose tone. 

As to intemperance in eating, it keeps the body in a constant fever, banishes 
dreamless sleep, blanches the cheeks, impoverishes the blood, destroys beauty, and 
ages one before her time. I speak strongly on this subject, because I feel con¬ 
vinced that over-eating is the cause of tens of thousands of the illnesses from which 
we suffer. 

The permanganate of potash, which forms the basis of Condy’s disinfecting 
fluid as well as Condy’s ozonised water, possesses remarkable powers of purification. 
It is a reddish brown salt, and can be bought for a reasonable price from any 
respectable chemist. In cases of sickness it is invaluable as a disinfectant. Redden 
a quart of water by mixing a teaspoonful of the salt in it and shaking the bottle, and 
pour a little of this into a saucer, standing it in a room wherever the air is likely to 
be tainted. A little of this water may be used to slightly tinge the bath, or the 
water with which you wash the hands or rinse the mouth. When the breath is 
offensive, either the stomach, lungs, or teeth are in fault. If the former, a little 
Gregory’s powder is a good thing to take every morning. And three times a day, 
ten drops of the following mixture should be taken in a little water: twenty grains 
of permanganate of potash, dissolved in five ounces of pure water. If there is 
reason to believe that the lungs are weakly, there is nothing in the world better 
than moderate exercise in the open air, especially on sunny days, and the light 
brown cod liver oil. Begin with a teaspoonful three times a day after meals, and 
gradually increase till a tablespoonful can be taken. It may not seem to agree at 
first, but persist in it, nevertheless. It is a grand remedy for all kinds of constitu¬ 
tional weaknesses. 

Many girls between the ages of ten and fifteen suffer from what we medical 
men call aticemia , or, in plain English, poverty of blood. Such girls are often looked 
upon as merely delicate, and little that can be of any avail is attempted to be done 
for them. Here is a case in point, and it teaches a lesson that you will do well to 
lay to heart. Miss Julian A. is fourteen years of age; she is an only daughter and 
adored by her parents. But her mother says, expressively, ‘ Julian won’t make old 
bones.’ Her mother’s words may come true, because this is the way in which she 
is treated: She is kept and coddled almost constantly within doors, she has always 
a little fire in her bedroom, and the window is seldom opened. If she goes out she 
is positively burdened with clothes, and, in addition to all kinds of good living, she 
is made to drink wine ‘ to keep her up.’ She is pale and blanched in appearance, 
too weakly to work, and suffers from back ache. This case, and all others of the 
same kind, requires plenty of exercise in the open air, the companionship of other 
girls of the same age, good food, cod liver oil, and tonics of iron, of which the 
following is an excellent sample : twenty grains each of sulphate of quinine, dried 
sulphate of iron, and the extract of henbane made into fifteen pills, and one taken 
twice a day. With this treatment an aloes pill should be taken at night about once 
a week. I ought to tell you that ten drops three times a day in a little water of the 
tincture of iron, or ‘ steel drops,’ is an excellent tonic for pale weakly girls. But 
they ought by all means to take plenty of open air exercise. They should not make 



296 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK, 


hot-house plants of themselves. Hot-house plants are good enough to look at, but 
they are of no other use that I know of. 

Girls of weakly habit and constitution often suffer from faulting fits. So, too, 
do older people, and every one ought to know what to do in a case of this kind. 
When a person faints, then, or swoons and falls to the ground, place her prone on 
the floor or sofa, the head being level with the body or not raised above an inch, 
loosen the clothes, let her have fresh air by opening doors and windows, rub the 
breast with brandy or spirits, dash cold water in the face, and apply smelling salts 
to the nostrils. The mistakes people generally make in fainting fits are : first, 
crowding too much around the patient, thus excluding the fresh air; and secondly, 
raising the head above the level of the body. Epilepsy or falling sickness is distin¬ 
guished from fainting by the convulsions, grinding of the teeth, and foaming at the 
mouth. Little can be done during the fit further than preventing the patient from 
hurting herself or biting the tongue; the clothes should be loosened, however, and 
fresh air admitted. 

A fit of hysterics is usually brought on through fatigue, or by mental emotion of 
some kind. It is too well known to need description. I cannot lay down any 
general plan of treatment. During the fit, some may be relieved by being gently 
soothed, others may need a soothing drink, followed by rest; but at all events, as it 
is only a weakly person who can be subject to hysterics, tonics should be taken in the 
intervals, quinine and iron, &c., with good diet and moderate exercise, and the bath. 

Have my readers ever heard of a disease called St. Vitus’s Dance l It is 
characterised by uncontrollable movements of the hands, or feet, or face, or even of 
the whole body, which greatly interfere with walking, or working, or even talking. 
It is far more common among young girls than among boys. Very distressing 
though this complaint be, both to the patient herself and to her friends, most cases 
can be cured by care and kind treatment. Patients who suffer from St. Vitus’s Dance 
are generally irritable in temper. They ought never, therefore, to be excited, far 
less mimicked. They should have no worry, not even the worry of lessons to learn. 
The diet should be nutritious, with plenty of milk. The cold shower bath may be 
tried; it does great good when the shock can be borne. Or the sea-salt bath may be 
taken every morning before breakfast, cold if possible, if not, tepid. Two large 
handfuls of sea-salt should be added to each bucketful of water used. Then, exercise 
out of doors will be found exceedingly beneficial, if taken with regularity and 
judgment. Meanwhile cod liver oil must not be forgotten, and a tonic; I have 
great faith in a combination of zinc and steel, with an occasional aloetic pill. Take 
twenty grains of phosphate of zinc, one drachm of tincture of iron, one drachm of 
dilute phosphoric acid, and mix in eight ounces of peppermint water. Of course a 
chemist or druggist must compound this; the dose will be two tablespoonfuls twice 
a day, for a girl about fifteen; if only about ten years of age, one tablespoonful will 
be enough. 

The old-fashioned plan of treating a common cold is by no means to be despised, 
and if taken in time is generally effectual. Warm drinks should be taken, according 
to this method, before going to bed, and about eight grains of Dover’s powder for a 
girl of fourteen or fifteen. A handful of mustard should be thrown into a pailful of 
hot water, and used as a foot-bath, and an extra blanket should be put upon the bed 
to induce perspiration. Care should be taken to wrap up well next day, and to live 
as well as possible. 




HEALTH. 


297 


A teaspoonful of the solution of the acetate of ammonia, with fifteen to thirty 
drops of the spirits of sweet nitre, taken in cold water, three or four times a day, is a 
nice mixture to reduce the heat of body and the feverishness caused by a cold. So 
simple a remedy should find a place in every family medicine chest. When the cold 
attacks the chest, there will be at first a harsh, dry, and painful cough; the pain 
gets less or goes away entirely when the cough is accompanied by expectoration, 
which it is in the second and last stage. A mustard poultice may be applied to the 
front of the chest, or friction, till the lower part of the throat and upper part of the 
chest are well reddened, with turpentine. You apply the turpentine by pouring 
about a tablespoonful of it over a piece of flannel, wrung from water as hot as you 
can hold it. This and the same treatment as that recommended for a common cold 
will usually give relief. 

Many young girls are greatly troubled with indigestion. This tiresome complaint, 
trifling though it may seem to some, should never on any account be neglected, 
because it is the forerunner, and even the cause, of many dangerous and fatal 
illnesses. Independent of this, no one can look well who suffers from it; the 
complexion of a dyspeptic girl is never clear, nor is her eye bright and full. Any one 
suffering from indigestion should first and foremost find out the cause. Let her ask 
herself these questions : Do I take sufficient outdoor exercise ? Do I practise early 
rising and always take my matutinal bath ? Do I eat intemperately or eat in haste ? 
Are my studies too long and tedious ? The lighter and the more easily digested the 
food which a dyspeptic person takes the better; too long intervals between meals are 
injurious, and so, of course, is overloading the stomach. Milk is the best beverage, 
and tea should be avoided. Ginger ale may be taken with dinner; of medicines the 
fewer the better, but gentian bitters will do good if taken about half-an-hour before 
meals, and if there be paleness of the countenance, or inside of lips and gums, iron 
will do good (steel drops). If the tongue be yellow or white in the morning, the 
liver is probably somewhat in fault, in which case dandelion tea may be taken in 
doses of half a wineglassful three or four times a day. The proportion is, of 
dandelion root sliced and bruised, one ounce boiled for a quarter of an hour in a 
pint of water. It is then simply strained, and enough water added to make it 
measure a pint. A teaspoonful or two of cream of tartar may be mixed in water, 
and half a teaspoonful of Howard’s carbonate of soda added, and taken first thing in 
the morning; this medicine is very cooling and agreeable. A small teaspoonful of 
carbonate of soda in a wineglassful of water is an instantaneous cure for heartburn. 

I know that many of my youthful readers suffer greatly from that most dreadful 
complaint called tic-douloureux , or neuralgia of the face. The pain is usually confined 
to one-half of the face and head, and comes on in paroxysms of great severity; an 
attack may last for days or even for weeks. Then it may be absent for quite a long 
time, when some little irregularity in diet or accidental chill may bring it all back 
again. It is most common in weakly girls. 

To get rid of tic, the first thing to do is to have the teeth examined by a proper 
dentist. The removal of a bad one will often in itself suffice to effect a cure ; a mild 
pill of aloes and pepsine combined may be taken about once a week, but stronger 
medicine is objectionable. An ointment composed of one grain or a grain and a 
half of aconitine with sixty grains of lard may be carefully and cautiously rubbed into 
the painful part of the cheek in front of the ear. A skilled chemist would tell you 
exactly how to use this. Liniments of chloroform, belladonna, and aconite are also 




298 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


worthy of a trial. But there is one medicine for the relief of neuralgic pains that I 
must not omit mentioning, because it often—mind I do not say always acts like 
. charm; I refer to sal ammoniac. The dose for a grown-up person would be 
twenty grains in about half a cupful of water, repeated every hour till four doses 
are taken. If relief is obtained, the medicine should be taken three or four times 
a day for a week. About half the dose would do for a girl about twelve. 

Having got rid of the torture, a great effort ought to be made to improve the 
general health, and so prevent its return. Quinine wine should be used three times 
a day, with steel drops if the patient be pale and bloodless-looking. The diet 
should be nourishing. Milk should be substituted for coffee or tea. The clothing 
ought to be warm, and the feet especially kept comfortable; white flannel must be 
worn next the skin. 

I hope my readers will get my prescriptions made up by a regular chemist, 
except, indeed, the more simple of them, such as dandelion or chamomile tea, &c. 
I would also remind them that unless attention to the ordinary rules of health is 
paid, such as regulation of diet, exercise, fresh air, early hours, and the bath, 
medicines will not work the wonders which they are expected to do. 


SOME USEFUL HINTS ON SURGERY. 

By Medicus. 

When I was a little boy at my first school the Bible was one of our text-books. It 
was the first history I had ever read, and I was naturally much interested in its 
heroes and heroines. David, I know, seemed to my mind just the beau-ideal of all 
a boy should be, and when I read of the brave and undaunted manner in which he 
attacked and slew Goliath, I determined to emulate him, at least so far as the sling 
and the stone went; and I succeeded so well that in three weeks after I first com¬ 
menced practice I smashed my poor sister’s arm. Of course I was not aiming at 
Nellie, and the greater the pity, because I never did hit anything that I aimed at. 
On this particular occasion I was aiming at a farmer’s ox in a distant field; this 
was very wicked, but when I saw Nellie drop down and faint with the pain, I thought 
she was dead, and wrung my hands and wept aloud and danced frantically around 
her. This probably relieved my own feelings, but it could not have done Nellie 
much good, and had I known then only a very little of what I know now, I would 
have acted differently. But what I did then is just precisely what nine out of 
every ten young people do daily, when an accident occurs to a brother, sister, or 
playmate. To render assistance promptly hardly ever occurs to them. 

‘ Oh! but,’ some of my readers may exclaim, ‘ we don’t know what to do in 
cases of emergency.’ 

You are quite right; and therefore I am going to tell you in the following 
pages what is the best and safest way to deal with little accidents ; and I am quite 
sure you will listen with pleasure to what I have to say, and derive some profit 
therefrom as well. 

Now the most alarming of all little accidents, in the eyes of young folks, are 
those that are accompanied by the effusion of blood, so I will take them first. The 





SOME HINTS ON SURGERY. 


299 


simplest of these is bleeding at the nose. Sometimes, in the case of stout, rosy- 
faced children, this is salutary, but it proves that they are making blood too quickly, 
that they are in reality not strong, so the general health should be seen to, and 
plenty of exercise taken. As to medicine, laxatives should be given and some 
simple tonic. When bleeding at the nose occurs from a blow, or if it be excessive 
from whatever cause, means must be taken 'to stop it. The sufferer must not remain 
in a warm room; going out into the cool fresh air will often of itself suffice to stop 
the bleeding. If it does not, then the nose and brow ought to be bathed in the 
coldest water procurable. The upright position should be maintained, the head 
thrown well back, the arms raised, and either ice or a cold piece of iron or steel 
applied to the spine. 

Cuts or wounds, as a rule, require very simple treatment. First and foremost, 
do not be alarmed at the sight of a little blood; there is no danger, unless it be of 
a very bright red colour and spurts out in jets; that would show that an artery had 
been cut; but even then you must not give way to fear. All you have to do is to 
apply pressure on the wound by means of your thumbs, and send for a medical man 
or surgeon. If a simple cut or wound is torn and lacerated, it must be washed 
with cold water and a bit of sponge before it is done up, and if any dirt or foreign 
matter, such as sand or glass, be in it, that must be very carefully removed ; then 
cut two or three pieces of sticking-plaster, about as long as your little finger, and no 
wider, heat them one by one before the fire, and one by one apply them over the 
wound, just to keep the edges gently together. After you have applied one, you 
must not put the next close to it; you have to leave room between every piece for 
any matter that may form to afterwards find vent. Apply over this a little lint, 
made by stretching a piece of old, cleanly-washed linen tight, and scraping it with a 
knife; over all a bandage must be put, and you must keep a wound like this clean, 
but do not disturb the dressing more than is actually required. If it seems angry, 
a bit of clean surgeon’s lint dipped in water, with a piece of oiled silk over it, 
makes a very soothing dressing. A simple even cut may be bound up with the 
blood, which, by keeping the air from it, hermetically seals it, and it will heal thus 
without further trouble. 

A bitten tongue often bleeds profusely, and gives great pain. Wash the mouth 
with the coldest water, in which some powdered alum has been mixed, and continue 
doing so until the bleeding stops. 

When the skin has been torn or grazed off any part of the hands, arms, or legs, 
the bleeding is sometimes difficult to stop. Cold water may be sufficient to do this, 
if not, tincture of iron should be applied. This tincture of iron is the same tonic 
(called steel drops) which I so often recommend pale and delicate girls to use, in 
the proportion of ten to fifteen drops three times a day in a little cold water. So 
you see it is a handy thing to have in the house for more reasons than one. Scalp- 
wounds, or wounds in the head, require somewhat different treatment. If in the 
forehead, the usual sticking-plaster dressing and a bandage will suffice to mend 
matters; if in the scalp among the hair, the latter must be cut off all around the 
wound to admit of the application of the plaster; the bleeding in either case must 
be stopped by pressure, cold water, or ice. 

The youngest of my readers should know how to treat simple scalds and burns, 
for, small though they may be, they are exceedingly painful, and it is a gaining of 
half the battle if you can give relief. A burn or scald in the hands, or wrist, or 




300 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


fingers, if the skin be not blistered or broken, is relieved in a surprisingly short 
time by the application of a rag or morsel of lint wetted in turpentine. Soap 
applied to a slight burn is likewise a good application to remove pain. Water¬ 
dressing is also effective, and after the pain has been removed, the place may be 
dressed with simple ointment, cold cream, or glycerine. Another excellent appli¬ 
cation to a burned surface is what is called ‘ carron oil ’; it is composed of equal 
parts of lime water and olive oil, with a small quantity of turpentine. In all cases 
of severe burning medical aid should be summoned as soon as possible. 

If a child’s clothes catch fire, she ought to be thrown down at once, and a 
hearth-rug, blanket, or whatever comes handiest, rolled around her to extinguish the 
flames. When any one has the misfortune to catch fire, she ought at once to throw 
herself on the floor and roll about; if this plan be resorted to, the fire cannot 
spread upwards over the head, and life may be saved, to say nothing of terrible 
deformity. 

Children sometimes swallow boiling water, from a kettle, for instance. In a 
case of this kind all you can do is to keep the sufferer perfectly quiet, and give him 
ice to suck if you can procure any, and meanwhile send at once for a surgeon. 

Bruises are the result of direct violence; in these cases, although no bones are 
broken and the skin is left intact, the small veins in the flesh are lacerated and 
blood thrown out under the skin, discoloration being the result. A black-eye is 
one of the simplest examples of a bruise, and probably one of the commonest; a 
blow on the forehead from running against something hard is another; and both, 
simple though I call them, are very disfiguring, especially in a young girl. When, 
then, any one receives a blow which she is afraid may lead to discoloration of the 
skin, either arnica lotion or spirit lotion should be applied immediately and con¬ 
stantly for some considerable time. The arnica lotion is easily made; it is simply 
a tablespoonful of tincture of arnica in a small tumblerful of water; it is a useful 
application to sprains as well. Vinegar and water is also a very cooling lotion, in 
the proportion of one part of the former to three of the latter. 

A jammed finger is a most painful accident. Steeping the finger in very hot 
water is the most effectual method of giving relief. I may mention here that an 
incipient whitlow may sometimes be dispersed in the same way, provided matter 
has not already formed; but when once this begins to burrow under the tendons, 
poultices and free lancing will bring the first relief. 

A blister of the skin, whether in the foot or hand, seems a very simple thing 
indeed. Yet nine persons out of every ten do not know how properly to treat it. 
It may be caused by friction of any kind—friction from a tight or too loose fitting 
shoe, or friction of the hand from rowing, drilling, or using tools of any kind. The 
first thing to do is to pass a needle with a loose cotton thread through it. Cut off 
this thread at each side of the blister, and thus allow the water to run or drain out 
of the bleb ; it will afterwards heal up nicely, but rest must be given. Now I do 
not know that any young lady wants to harden her hands, even for the sake of 
drilling; for a soft hand is certainly a point of beauty in a girl. But if, notwith¬ 
standing this, she objects to have hands easily blistered, let her bathe them morning 
and night for ten minutes in a quart of soft spring water in which a little toilet 
vinegar and a teaspoonful of alum have been mixed. This bath also does good in 
cases of clammy hands; but mind you I am not putting it forward as a specific, 
either for clamminess or blisters, but I do happen to know that it often does good. 




SOME HINTS ON SURGERY. 


301 


Blisters, or blebs, that contain blood may occur on the legs or arms; they are 
not due to friction, but, on the other hand, they point to a vitiated state of the 
blood, and the remedies for them should be internal or constitutional ones. The 
blood is impoverished, and the steel-drop tonic will do good. Plenty of milk is 
almost a certain remedy, but it must be new milk, and, if possible, drunk fresh and 
warm from the cow. Exercise in the open air will provoke an appetite and enable 
the girl who suffers from these signs of impoverished blood to eat well and heartily, 
which is exactly what Nature displays those blisters to entice her to do. They are 
to be looked upon as small flags of distress. 

Boils are also a sign of impure and impoverished blood. Some girls constantly 
suffer from them, crop after crop appearing and causing great distress, because they 
are not only disfiguring, especially if in the face, but very painful as well. These 
boils also point to a state of the blood which sadly needs reform; indeed, the 
general health of girls who suffer in this way is at a very low ebb. Everything, 
then, should be done that tends to increase the strength and purify the blood. 
Simple laxatives, such as cream of tartar or Gregory’s powder, should be taken 
twice or thrice a week. The digestion should be carefully attended to, nothing 
being eaten that is in the least likely to disagree, and not too much of anything 
eaten at one time. Exercise in the open air should be abundant, but not fatiguing, 
and the soap bath taken every day. Tonic medicines should be taken also, say 
a teaspoonful or more of quinine wine three times a day and ten drops of the 
tincture of iron. 

Touching the little boils three or four times a day with a drop or two of 
Goulard water, and suffering it to dry on, may tend to keep them back, or hot 
water may be tried. 

A stye is simply a small painful boil on the eyelid; it should be bathed three or 
four times a day with warm milk and water, and a poultice applied at night. As 
soon as it points, great relief will be gained by pricking it with a fine but perfectly 
new sewing needle. 

I should not like to think that any of my girl readers were in the habit of teasing 
either dog or cat, and thus falling victims to a well-deserved bite or scratch, but I 
am not quite so sure about their brothers. Well, then, if your brother has been 
naughty towards a dog, and the animal has retaliated, as dogs, according to Dr. 
Watts’s hymns, have a perfect right to do, you must not for a single moment 
imagine there is any danger to be apprehended from the bite. Nothing is more 
harmless than a cut from the tooth of a dog that is not actually rabid at the time ; 
his going mad on some future day would not have the slightest effect upon the 
person bitten. Nevertheless, to comfort the naughty boy and allay his fears, some¬ 
thing should be done to the bite. If water is quite handy the bitten part should be 
laved in it; this, in itself, if the water were cold enough, would cause contraction of 
the vessels and prevent the absorption of any poison. The bite must next be sucked 
well, and afterwards washed in salt and water. If any other treatment is necessary, 
the sufferer should be taken to a chemist, in order that the wound may be cauterised 
with nitrate of silver. In nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand 
there is no necessity for having a dog bite cauterised, except that it warns the youth 
who has been teasing the animal, and teaches him not to do so again. 

Scratches from cats are not poisonous, only they seldom heal very kindly, 
because, like a cut with a rusty nail, they leave a ragged wound. They should be 




302 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


carefully washed, to get rid of any dirt that may lodge in them; and, if deep, bound 
up with a wet rag or, better still, a morsel of lint wetted in wafm water with a little 
oiled silk placed over it. In a day or two a simple dressing with cold cream, to 
exclude the air, will be all that is required. 

We are very fortunate in this country in one way ; our climate may well be called 
fickle and changeable, but we are free from the swarms of noxious insects and 
reptiles that make life in the tropics almost unendurable to us Europeans. We 
have no deadly tarantulas, no dreaded scorpions, nor six-inch-long centipedes. 
These creatures never creep from under our pillows; nor, while walking in our 
gardens, do venomous snakes hiss at us as they hang from the rose trees. We have, 
it is true, one poisonous serpent, the lovely little viper; but he seldom appears, and 
when he does he is far more afraid of you than you can be of him. But in summer 
seasons, when plums are plentiful and the farmers talk about potatoes as ‘ a grand 
crop,’ we have in the country wasps in millions, and few escape being stung at least 
once before the cold weather comes on, and one ought to know what to do when 
such an accident occurs. There is no getting over the fact that certain people are 
more apt to be stung than others. I myself am a martyr to the playfulness of these 
yellow bees. I think they like to sting good people best—that is my way of looking 
at it; but I have some friends who permit wasps to alight upon and crawl upon 
their hands or faces. One day last summer I was prevailed upon by a lady relative 
to allow one to alight on the back of my hand. This particular wasp just walked 
about the length of two of my knuckles, then he stopped, as if some happy thought 
had just occurred to him. The next moment the wasp was calmly flying away 
through the open window, and I, the victim of misplaced confidence, was rushing 
frantically away for the ammonia bottle. Yes, that is the cure—ammonia, strong 
hartshorn : just wet the stopper of the bottle and put it on the part that has been 
stung. Hive bees always leave the sting, wasps only sometimes, but if they do so, 
it must be carefully extracted. If no hartshorn be at hand, try salt and water, or 
strong soda (washing soda), then rub the part with olive oil. 

In wooded portions of the country, especially where the land lies low and flat, 
young people suffer greatly while in bed at night from the bites of gnats. These 
things are really second cousins to the real mosquitoes, and the bite raises a swelling 
just as painful. Here again ammonia is the cure. I have known cases where 
delicate girls and children were quite fevered from the loss of rest and blood- 
poisoning caused by the bites of these tormenting insects. The febrile disturbance 
is accompanied by weakness and nervous depression; it is best relieved by the 
tincture of yellow bark, a small teaspoonful in water three or four times a day. 
Coffee also does good; it may be made in the morning and drunk cold in small 
quantities during the day, without either milk or sugar. 

Those who walk much in grassy paddocks or orchards are often bitten by an 
extremely, almost invisibly, small insect called the harvest bug; touching the spot 
with hartshorn destroys the poison and kills the animalcule, if it has burrowed. The 
swelling and pa-:n occasioned by the bite is best allayed by rubbing the part with 
spirits of camphor. 

Children sometimes, while eating fish, especially if eating hurriedly, a habit which 
is most prejudicial to digestion, have the misfortune to get a bone stuck in the 
throat. It is usually a small one, so that some attempt should be made to imme¬ 
diately get it down. Swallowing a morsel of bread only half chewed may do this 



SOME HINTS ON SURGERY. 


30 3 


If not, and the bone can be seen or felt, it should be hooked out with the fingers. 
Choking on a piece of meat is a terrible accident. Medical aid should be at once 
summoned; but very often this is too late, and the victim to hurry in eating is dead 
ere he arrives. A smart blow or two on the back will often tend to dislodge a piece 
of meat or food of any kind stuck in the throat, but if any attempt at swallowing can 
be made, a tablespoonful of salad oil should be taken. 

Talking of things sticking in the throat brings me to say a word or two about 
foreign bodies in other places. 

In the eye, for example. While walking or riding on a summer’s evening or 
afternoon, minute flying beetles often get into the eye. These tiny little gentlemen, 
as soon as they alight anywhere, immediately fold up their wings and put them away 
under a kind of tippet they wear over their shoulders like a policeman’s cape. I 
suppose they do this to teach human beings always to take the greatest care of their 
best things. Well, if one of these little beetles gets into your eye, and you have no 
companion by you to remove it with the corner of a handkerchief, gentle rubbing of 
the eyelid in one direction will bring it to the inner corner of the eye, from which 
the finger alone will be able to remove it. Or if this fails, lifting up one eyelid so 
as to get the other under it to sweep it will usually be effectual; but no harshness 
should be used. 

Now, I know that any girl who can read this book is too old to be likely 
to amuse herself by poking peas or beans up her nostrils, but her tiny brother 
or sister may, by way of gaining new experience. When such a thing happens the 
foreign substance must be dislodged somehow. A pinch of snuff—it must be a very 
tiny one—will often be effective, by causing it to be sneezed out. And there is a 
right way and a wrong way of giving snuff to a child with this end in view. For the 
snuff must be drawn in very gently, else the pea itself may be sent farther in, as, 
before sneezing, the breath is drawn in ; you must hold the child’s nose momentarily, 
in order that he may take in his breath only by the mouth. Well, if this fails, you 
should take the child on your knee, lay him on his back, hold the nose above the 
pea to prevent it from getting farther back, and with the point of a bodkin slightly 
bent, you must try to hook it out. It is hardly needful to remark that this should 
be done with great care. If you fail, medical assistance must be had recourse to. 

When a pea gets into the ear, the bent end of a hair-pin may be used to dislodge 
it, or a stream of water thrown in with a syringe to float it out. The ear may also 
be syringed to get rid of a fly or earwig, the annoyance from which, if lodged in the 
ear, is most distressing, not to say al irming. But olive oil had better be dropped 
into the ear first; this will kill the insect, and very likely also dislodge it. 

When a ring cannot be removed from the finger, it is just as much matter out of 
place as a pea in the nose or fly in the eye or ear. It is apt, too, to give rise to 
much pain and swelling. When you have tried in vain to remove the ring from 
your oiled or well-soaped finger, give up any further exertion for an hour or two, 
then after placing the hand in the coldest water for a minute or two and wiping it 
dry, take a long and fine thread and roll it tightly and closely round all the finger in 
front of the offending ring, beginning at the extreme tip, and as soon as you reach 
the ring, slip the end through beneath, and endeavour to work it gradually off. 
Failing this, it must be filed off, and this a surgeon must do. 

The accident which is generally designated by the name of sprain or strain, is 
simply a stretching or wrenching of one of the tendons near a joint, or it may be 




3°4 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


even the laceration of one of the ligaments of the joint. There is usually much pain 
or tenderness and swelling. A very bad sprain may require the application of 
leeches to subdue the swelling. An ordinary sprain should be gently rubbed—- 
remember the rubbing must not cause much pain, no ‘thumbing’ should be 
permitted—it should, I say, be gently rubbed with some such stimulating embroca¬ 
tion as opodeldoc, and then swathed in a flannel bandage, or hot fomentations may 
be necessary to soothe the pain and allay the swelling and inflammation; this maybe 
followed by the application of a soothing bran poultice at bedtime. Rest of the 
sprained joint must be carefully enjoined ; if it be a foot, a knee, or ankle, it ought to 
be raised on a pillow at night and on a chair by day; if it be the wrist or hand, it 
should be carried in a sling. Make no attempt to use the sprained joint until all 
the pain is gone, and even then you must be careful. The stiffness which often 
remains, accompanied sometimes with swelling, is best removed by salt water 
douches, or by pouring cold water from a height on the part. 

When the pain from a sprain is very severe, great relief is obtained from the 
laudanum fomentation. An ordinary fomentation means the application of flannels 
wrung from water as hot as the hands will bear it; a laudanum fomentation is made 
by simply pouring a teaspoonful or two of tincture of opium on the flannel before it 
is applied. The mustard fomentation is used to the chest when during a cold the 
cough gives much pain. Here the flannels are wrung out of water in which two or 
three good handfuls of mustard have been mixed. It reddens the skin and gives 
much relief. The turpentine fomentation is also a good one in the same kind of 
cases; a tablespoonful of turpentine is poured upon the heated flannel and the chest 
well rubbed with it, or it may be simply laid upon the chest and changed for another 
hot flannel as soon as it begins to cool down. 


































































































































CHAPTER VII.—RECREATION. 

WHAT TO DO ON HOLIDAY AFTERNOONS. 



BOUT a dozen girls, varying in age from ten to sixteen, 
were gathered in little groups round the three windows 
of a schoolroom. 

It was Saturday, the week’s lessons were over, and 
the girls were longing to enjoy their half-holiday in the 
open air, but were still imprisoned, as they had been 
for days past, by that pitiless, unceasing downpour. 
Weary of everything, they stood gazing from the 
windows and grumbling at the weather. 

‘ Nay, Goody,’ said Marian, ‘ you must find some¬ 
thing for “ idle hands ” to do. Come, suggest a game.’ 

‘ If she does, it is sure to be something dreadfully 
instructive, and so like school that, once into it, we shall 
not know the difference,’ cried Emma. 

‘ Well, as we are tired of all the things we generally 
play at we will give Goody a chance of improving our minds. Work will be a 
decided novelty to you, Emma, at any rate,’ said Marian to the last speaker, who 
was the laziest girl in the school; ‘ go on, Goody, and tell what the game is to be.’ 

‘ Get out your atlases and sit round the table, and we will try “ Souvenirs.” ’ 

‘ Didn’t I say so ? Goody will set us playing at a geography lesson, and finish 
up with a sprinkling of botany, grammar, and common subjects, vide Miss Mangnall’s 
questions. Never mind. Anything for us drowned-in school-girls who have got no 
work to do.’ 

‘ Now, listen whilst I explain the game,’ said Bertha; ‘we are supposed to be a 
party of travellers, and to journey in various countries. We may go on horseback, 
by train, coach, steamboat, yacht, rowing-boat, or even by balloon, if we choose. 
Only, when we speak of going from one place to another we must be careful to 
mention a suitable mode of conveyance. We must not talk of crossing rivers in a 
coach, or mountains in a steam packet, or the Arabian deserts in a railway train. 
If you do you must pay a forfeit. Then, whenever you arrive at a place, you must 
buy something and say for whom you intend it. The article must be a product or a 
manufacture of the place at which it is bought, and a suitable gift for the individual 
to whom it is to be presented.’ 

‘ I suppose, Goody, you intend to convey some such warning as that it would not 
be advisable to purchase a fiery Arab steed in order that our aged grandmother might 
have facilities for equestrian exercise, or to place a pair of gold-mounted spectacles 
at the disposal of a three-year-old brother?’ 

‘ Certainly not, Marian. I see you have a good notion of the game already. 
There are generally plenty of forfeits and good fun in redeeming them, and we learn 
a great deal both about places and products.’ 


X 2 





303 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


4 Right, Goody. Always combine instruction with recreation. What map shall 
we have ?’ 

4 As you are all beginners at the game, one which is familiar to everybody, say 
Europe. Properly, the game should be played without looking at a map ; and after 
the first time we should put atlases away and use our memories only. Papa, my 
brothers, and I used to put everything into rhyme, and that made still more fun; for 
we had forfeits for bad rhymes or lagging lines.’ 

4 Rhymes optional, then. We are not all poets born, or even able to make rain 
fit with Spain; so let us begin in a modest way. Are you ready ? Goody must 
begin, for she knows the game, and we are only learners, and shall make blunders 
wholesale.’ 

4 Understand, then, the second player must always start from the place to which 
the first has travelled, and so on.’ 

Bertha begins:— 

4 I’ll trim my bark and sail away 
South by Biscay’s stormy bay, 

Until I come to Bordeaux fair.’ 

Marian. —* Pray what will you purchase there ? ’ 

Bertha. — 4 I’ll buy a cask of the choicest wine 
That ever came from the purple vine.’ 

4 A forfeit, a forfeit, Goody ! ’ shouted several voices. * The grapes are purple, 
not the vines ! ’ 

4 Pm sure I have seen “ purple vine ” in a real poem somewhere,’ expostulated 
Bertha. 

4 Well, if another poet blundered, that is no excuse for you. Hand out some¬ 
thing.’ Bertha gave up her penknife, though by no means convinced of the equity 
of the sentence. 

Clara. —‘Who is to have the famous cask?’ 

Bertha.— 4 Surely you hardly need to ask, 

I’ll send the wine to my father dear, 

His board to grace and his guests to cheer.’ 

4 Bravo, Goody ! You almost deserve your penknife back again. I suppose, as 
you have started rhyming, we must follow your example, as it will not do for a mite 
like you crow over us.’ And Marian went on bravely :— 

4 I’ll sail my bark into softer seas, 

And pass the columns of Hercules, 

The diver shall pierce the waves so blue 
To find the coral, dear girl, for you.’ 

Clara. — 4 From Malta the daintiest lace I’ll bring 
To my darling mother, love’s offering.’ 

‘ I think that last rhyme is anything but good,’ said Bertha. 4 It has a lame sound 
with it’ 

‘ I’m sure ring and bring rhyme all right,’ pleaded Clara, whose first attempt at 
putting two lines together had produced no small amount of satisfaction in her own 
mind, at any rate. 4 If you are so very severe on first attempts, we must betake 
ourselves to prose.’ 

4 It is all prose,’ insisted Bertha, 4 only prose in rhyme; but go on.’ 

4 1 shall give you prose without rhyme, then,’ said Emma. 4 We have only one 



RECREA 7 JON. 


309 


sort of wine so far, and I’ll sail first to Xeres for some sherry, and on to Oporto for 
some port wine, to bear Bertha’s claret company.’ 

‘ A forfeit, Emma ! ’ 

‘ What for? Doesn’t sherry come from Xeres, and port from Oporto ? ’ 

‘Yes, but you cannot sail to Xeres. You will have to leave your ship at Cadiz, 
and travel north-east by some other conveyance, if you are resolved to buy your wine 
on the spot.’ 

‘ Oh, dear ! what must I give you ? ’ And after a rummage a pencil-case was 
handed over. 

Alice.— ‘ I’ll trim my bark, and away I’ll sail 

To the Arctic Ocean to catch a whale. 

I’ll cut up the blubber and melt it down, 

And the oil shall yield me many a crown.’ 

Bertha. —‘To whom will you give the crowns so bright?* 

Alice. —‘ I’ll spend them on bread for the hungry wight, 

I’ll clothe the naked and warm the cold, 

And gladden the hearts of the poor and old.’ 

Mary. —‘ To the Isle of Man I will quickly sail, 

To purchase a kitten without a tail. 

The gift is meant for a merry child, 

Who drives my elderly pussy wild. 

He pulls her tail and her paws and ears 
Till ancient Tabby both spits and swears.* 

Nellie. —‘I’ll steer up the Liffey to Dublin town, 

That I may purchase a poplin gown; 

For grandmother dear it is just the thing, 

The nicest present that I can bring.’ 

Annie. — ‘ I must sail back to fair Kirkwall, 

To fetch my mother a Shetland shawl.’ 

Bertha. —‘ A forfeit, Annie : Kirkwall is in Orkney, not Shetland.’ 

‘ I’m sure it is near enough, and we could get a Shetland shawl there.’ 

‘ And so you can in London ; but when you profess to fetch a thing in this game, 
you must go to the very spot where it is made. That is just the fun of it, and the 
only way we catch anybody blundering.’ 

Annie gave up her thimble to Marian, who acted as receiver-general of forfeits, 
and grumbled that she had so little to do. There were only four girls who had not 
spoken, and as they seemed to be vainly cudgelling their brains for something to 
say, they were in turn allowed two minutes each to make up a rhyme. Failing in 
this each had to pay a forfeit for not having contributed to the amusement and 
instruction of the rest, and then Bertha concluded by saying, 

‘ We’ve been to Ireland, France, and Spain, 

And now we will sail straight home again.’ 

‘ Now for the forfeits,’ said Clara; and Marian sentenced the owners, in turn, to 
redeem them; one by standing on her right foot until she could find six more words 
to rhyme with soup. 

This was Bertha’s task, and she rapidly enumerated croup, stoup, hoop, coop, 
roup, whoop. 

Two were objected to, namely, roup' and stoup; but Bertha triumphed by 



3io 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


exhibiting the words in Webster’s ponderous English dictionary, though admitting 
the Scotchiness, as Clara called it, of both. 

Then the dunce was requested to tell how many two and two made, reckoned 
twice over. She insisted on replying four, and was with difficulty made to see that 
twice over the amount would reach eight. Another was set to reckon the rain-drops 
that fell on a certain spot during the space of one minute, and a second to check 
the account, and so on until the few forfeits were redeemed. 

‘ That travelling game is not a bad one, Goody,’ said Marian, * and I can see how 
it can be almost indefinitely extended, and be better than a geography lesson, by 
putting away maps altogether, and journeying in imagination to far-away lands. But 
tea-time is still distant. What shall we do now ? ’ 

‘ As it is hardly worth while beginning anything that will last long, let us play at 
“ Purveyors and house furnishers.” ’ 

‘ What is that ? ’ 

‘ We pretend we are going to entertain a great company of guests, and we have 
nothing ready. Each one agrees to go and fetch either one of the table or house 
requisites. It is a very simple game—first cousin to the one we have been playing.’ 

Marian and the rest entered into the spirit of this at once, and it was carried on 
with the greatest rapidity. 

‘ I’ll go to Axminster and fetch a velvet pile carpet and rugs for the drawing- 
room.’ 

‘ I’ll go to Brussels for another for the dining-room.’ 

‘ I’ll get others from Kidderminster for the bed-rooms.’ 

‘ I will fetch the linen from Belfast.’ 

‘ And I the cotton goods from Manchester.’ 

‘ I’ll fetch the blankets from Bury and Witney.’ 

‘ And we will have eider-down quilts, but we will not send for the down from the 
Arctic regions.’ 

‘ Ill bring knives from Sheffield, and all the silver and plated goods.’ 

‘ And we’ll have the fenders and pokers from Birmingham.’ 

‘ I will buy lace curtains from Nottingham.’ 

‘ And I, for a change, others from Switzerland.’ 

‘The daintiest glass and mirrors I bring from Venice.’ 

‘ And I painted china for dessert service from Worcester.’ 

‘ All the other crockery I will buy in Staffordshire.’ 

‘ Only the tea service, which shall be from Sevres.’ 

‘ And the chimney ornaments from Dresden.’ 

‘ Now provisions must be thought of for all the meals.’ 

‘ First we must have coal to cook with, so I order this from Lancashire.’ 

‘ Best Silkstone,’ urged a girl whose father owned a large colliery, and who was 
laughed at for having a keen eye to business. 

So they ran on, bringing, in imagination, spices, coffee, sugar, meats, fruits, 
everything that could be required in a well-ordered and extremely hospitable 
mansion, until at length there was a brief pause, and Marian made everybody laugh 
by saying as she ran out of the room, ‘ And I’ll bring you letters if there are any; for 
I see the postman coming up the path; ’ and thus abruptly ended the game by 
suggesting objects of greater interest for the school-girls, to whom letters were so 
precious. 



RECREA TION. 


3 TI 

Bertha’s school-fellows who were not engaged in reading letters of their own 
noticed that she suddenly left the room after reading a letter. Marian Lane was 
especially troubled at seeing tears in her favourite’s eyes, and in her impulsive 
fashion was about to rush after Bertha to try to comfort her. But she checked 
herself, having delicacy enough, with her usual warm-heartedness, to understand 
that a girl so sensitive as Bertha would prefer solitude for a short time at any rate, if 
any painful news had reached her. Miss Walker, to whom Bertha had handed the 
letter, at length replaced it in the envelope, and Marian, equally curious and 
anxious, ventured to say, ‘ I hope Bertha has had no bad news. She is such a dear 
little thing; we should all be sorry for her to have any trouble.’ 

‘ Scarcely bad news, dear, but this letter has brought her a severe disappoint¬ 
ment. Bertha was to spend all her holidays during the absence of her parents with 
dear friends of theirs, and in a most lovely spot. Unfortunately, the lady’s health 
has suddenly given way, and she is ordered to leave England at once, and must also 
winter in the South of France. There is, of course, no chance of Bertha joining her 
there, for the lady will have to think of her own children—more than care enough 
for one so delicate.’ 

‘ I am so sorry for darling Goody. She had been reckoning on this holiday visit for 
months past, and her brother Arthur was to have been with her for a fortnight of 
the time.’ 

‘ And I,’ said Miss Walker, ‘ am pledged to spend my vacation in a very quiet 
home with a beloved relative, a confirmed invalid. The rest will be grateful enough 
to me, as I lead such a busy life amongst my pupils; but I should not like to 
condemn dear Bertha to share my seclusion when she especially wants the society of 
cheerful friends to brighten her holidays. I must make some arrangement for her 
comfort before the time comes.’ 

‘ I am sure any house would be the brighter, and any family the happier, for 
Goody’s presence. I should love to have her with us at Westwood, and mamma 
would pet her to her heart’s content. She is such a thorough mother that she seems 
to have room enough in her affections for any number of children. Though there 
are eight of us, papa often tells her she has not nearly boys and girls enough to look 
after, and that the overflow love-stream finds channels for itself amongst the children 
of people who do not care so much about their youngsters. Mamma would be 
delighted with Goody.’ 

‘ I think she would, dear; and I could wish nothing better for Bertha 
than that she should spend her holidays at Westwood under Mrs. Lane’s loving 
guardianship. But you cannot make such an arrangement without your mamma’s 
consent.’ 

‘ I wish I could settle everything this very minute. But I must write first. I 
have only one fear, which is that every inch of bedroom may have been allotted ; 
for it is a rule with us that during the holidays Westwood shall be absolutely full 
from garret to cellar. However, I will write to-night,’ said Marian; and, sure 
enough, a letter was despatched by that evening’s post, the length of which excited 
much amusement amongst the girls. They congratulated the writer on having 
turned over a new leaf of notepaper, and giving at least one correspondent a proof 
that she sometimes considered it necessary to answer a letter. 

‘Wrong again,’ replied the incorrigible Marian, as she affixed the stamp and 
handed her letter to Miss Walker to put into the post-bag at her side, without even 



312 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


allowing Clara to see the address. ‘ I believe I never do answer a letter. I go 
on writing what is in my own mind at the time, without troubling myself about the 
subject that occupied my correspondent’s thoughts when she wrote to me, perhaps, 
months before.’ 

‘ And has probably forgotten long ago,’ said Clara. ‘ When I write I never 
pretend to go over the letter I have received bit by bit, making my own a sort of 
running commentary upon it. When what I call a good-sized joy or sorrow calls 
for sympathy, I like to express it. But to go on writing page after page, telling 
that I am glad or sorry about an afternoon’s excursion or a cold in the head, both 
of which were over and done with before you even heard of them, seems dreadful 
rubbish.’ 

Miss Walker was at the moment placing the last packet of letters in the post-bag, 
for after tea most of the girls had occupied an hour in writing, and the servant was 
waiting to carry off their collective correspondence. Bertha was sitting quietly at a 
little distance from the table, busily engaged in knitting a baby’s sock. Her knitting 
was always considered a great joke; but she would laugh and tell the girls she 
meant to practise, whilst she was young, everything that would be nice to do when 
she was a quiet old lady. But they all knew well that by means of Bertha’s steady 
industry, and by thus using her fragments of time, many a poor child had its small 
feet cased in comfortable socks, instead of having to go barefoot. It was easy to 
see from the expression of her face that the girl had gone through a rather severe 
struggle ; but, though there might be traces of sadness, there were none of a 
murmuring spirit or angry temper. 

Miss Walker was anxious to interest Bertha in the conversation, and, turning to 
her, said, ‘ If you were writing to a friend, what would be the principal subject of 
your letter ? ’ 

Bertha hesitated an instant, then answered, ‘ Myself, I think, and my 
occupation.’ 

‘ Grannie, Grannie, how dreadfully egotistical! ’—Grannie, be it understood, was 
what Marian called Bertha’s evening name, and appropriate to her occupation of 
stocking-knitting. ‘ That does sound selfish. What can you say in defence of such 
a system ? ’ 

‘ I did not mean to be selfish or egotistical; but I was just thinking how I feel 
when I get a letter from some one I love. I like to hear as much as possible about 
friends, and what they are doing, and I feel such an interest in all that concerns 
them. When I write to one who, 1 believe, loves me, I judge my friend’s feelings 
by my own. My brother Charles, for instance, is in Brazil: I do not know any othei 
person there, and he knows no one here. He tells me what he does and sees, and 
mentions any person who has been kind to him; but I should not care to read 
strings of names of persons with whom I have no acquaintance.’ 

‘ That is a very good defence of your system, dear,’ said Miss Walker. 

‘Shall I tell you mine, Miss Walker?’ asked Marian ; and the teacher’s smile 
being sufficient response, she said, ‘ I endeavour never to send a letter the contents 
of which cannot be fairly considered worth the penny stamp I put upon it. Now, 
as I can only very occasionally value the news I have to communicate even at that 
amount, you will observe that I conscientiously abstain from writing until I 'have 
really something to tell; hence when anybody receives a letter from me, it is 
certain to be worth having, and valued accordingly. If my plan were carried out ’- 




RECREA TION. 


313 


‘ I think/ interposed Miss Walker, ‘ that the revenue of this country would be 
seriously diminished and a large proportion of our postmen would find their 
occupation gone. Now how shall we spend the hour between this and bed-time? ’ 

The girls liked to hear the ‘we’ in that sentence, for it meant that Miss 
Walker would be with them, and the presence of their governess was never felt to be 
a restraint. On the contrary, she entered so warmly into their pursuits, and was so 
ready to suggest anything that would increase their pleasure, that her pupils 
often declared she was quite as young-hearted as any of them, only a whole 
library wiser. 

‘ Half-an-hour for a good romp, and half-an-hour to cool down after it, as we 
have had quiet games to-day, and want something to stir us up.’ 

This was agreed to, and ‘blind-man’s buff’ and the ‘cushion dance’ left all 
the players panting and glowing with the exercise at the end of the first half-hour, 
and ready for some less active amusement. 

Everybody knows ‘blind-man’s buff*; perhaps all do not know the ‘cushion 
dance,’ which is played thus :— 

The players are divided into two sides, and take their places alternately, joining 
hands and forming a circle, in the centre of which a pair of cushions or a buffet has 
been carefully placed on end. The players begin to dance round it, then suddenly 
try to drag their opponents towards the cushion, in order to upset it. It is most 
amusing to see the way in which the players skip to one side, jump over the 
cushions, do anything and everything but upset it; and it is astonishing how long 
they will succeed in avoiding a touch. But it goes down at last, and the player 
whose touch has caused the downfall pays a forfeit and goes out of the ring. 

This goes on until all the players on one side are turned out; though sometimes 
the struggle is protracted, and the battle fought with such determination that the 
sides lose equally, and the final triumph is won by one of the only two opponents 
left to fight it out. 

Boys have the best chance in this game, as the girls’ garments are more in 
the way; but it is played by both, and sometimes they take opposite sides. 
Certainly girls thoroughly enjoy it. 

Miss W alker had joined heartily in both games, but was one of the first expelled 
from the ring in the latter, probably not much to her own regret, as the exercise 
was of a rather violent sort for a grown-up player. As a penalty she was 
condemned to suggest the next game, and after a little consideration she announced 
that she was ready to do so. ‘ I shall want one confederate, to whom the secret of 
the game will be entrusted ; the rest will have to try to guess it. But first I must 
ascertain if any one has played at this game before. I joined in it once as a girl, 
but have never seen it played since then. I shall remain in the room with the rest 
of you, and my confederate will go out. During her absence I shall place my hand 
on the shoulder of some girl, or upon the piano, or on my own shoulder, and when 
she returns she shall tell you who has been touched.’ 

Nobody seemed to know anything about the game, so Miss Walker chose Alice 
Milne as her confederate. 

‘No chance of screwing the secret out of her,’ said Clara, ‘for she is the closest 
little thing. She could not be fitter for the post of secret-keeper if her lips were 
padlocked.’ 

The girl laughed, and went, not only out of the room, but out of earshot, and 



314 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


required more than one summons to bring her back. In the meanwhile Miss 
Walker laid her hand on the girl nearest to her, who happened to be Clara Lane, 
and on Alice’s return asked, ‘ On whom did my hand rest ? ’ 

Alice at once replied, ‘ On Clara.’ 

‘ Right,’ was the answer ; but the girls, thinking they had found out the game, 
said, ‘ You touch the girl nearest to you, Miss Walker.’ 

‘ I certainly did on this occasion ; but the position of the girl has nothing to do 
with the secret.’ 

‘ I think I know it, but I shall see,’ said Bertha; and several girls expressed a 
similar opinion. 

Again Alice went out. Miss Walker touched Nellie, and Alice, as promptly as 
before, named the right person on her return to the room. 

The girls were at fault, and again failed to discover any look or gesture which 
could help them. 

‘ You must have heard, Alice,’ said one. 

‘ But Miss Walker did not speak.’ 

‘ She placed her hand in a particular position.’ 

‘ Alice may come in blindfolded if you like,’ said Miss Walker; so that idea was 
abandoned. 

One of the girls went out with Alice, brought her in backwards, so that she 
might not see Miss Walker, held her hands, blindfolded the governess, did every¬ 
thing in fact but find out the secret. As to Miss Walker, her movements were 
very eccentric. She went from side to side; sometimes touching the same girl 
twice in succession, then resting her hand on the piano, and occasionally placing 
both hands on her own shoulders. But in every case when Alice was brought into 
the room she told instantly what had been done, and the end of the half-hour 
found the whole group of girls just as much at a loss as when the game was com¬ 
menced. 

‘ We give it up, Miss Walker. Do tell us the secret,’ came from the whole 
dozen of girls; but the teacher shook her head and laughingly refused. 

‘ If I tell you the secret to-night, my dears, the game is ended for us, though 
you could introduce it amongst other friends. As you have not yet guessed it, we 
may as well have a little more amusement out of this game, and you a little more 
mental exercise in trying to find it out. We will keep our knowledge to ourselves 
for another week, Alice, and on Saturday next the rest shall be told.’ 

This was agreed to; and so the evening’s amusements ended. A little later, 
as the governess gave each girl a loving ‘ good night ’ and kiss, she rejoiced to see 
a smile on Bertha’s face again, and to hear her discussing as eagerly as the rest the 
mystery of the game. 

More than once during the ensuing week Miss Walker spared an hour in order 
to amuse her pupils and exercise their ingenuity by playing at the game which had 
puzzled them so much. The younger teachers also joined in it, and proved equally 
ignorant to begin with, and unsuccessful in guessing the secret. ‘ On whom did 
my hand rest ? ’ remained a mystery, but at the end of the week Miss Walker 
revealed it. 

‘As a rule, I placed my hand on the shoulder of the girl who spoke the last 
before Alice quitted the room. But sometimes there were two or three speakers, 




RECREA TION. 


315 


and in this case I put both hands on my own shoulders. If no one spoke I touched 
the piano. Any article that may be agreed on will do equally well. With this 
simple understanding and an intelligent confederate, a mistake is almost impossible. 
You remember how often you insisted that some sign passed between Alice and 
myself, so we were both blindfolded. 

‘ Another time some one was deputed to follow her into the dining-room as soon 
as I had laid my hand on the individual, and she answered correctly, because she 
knew who would be touched when she left this room. You can seldom introduce 
this game without finding some persons in the company who do not know it, and 
those who do always enjoy the fun of seeing the rest so completely mystified. I 
once heard an elderly clergyman declare that he lost a night’s rest in the vain 
attempt to puzzle out the secret.’ 

‘ It is very puzzling when you do not know it, and seems so provokingly simple 
when you do, that I, for one,’ said a teacher, ‘ felt quite humiliated because I had 
not found it out for myself.’ 

‘ So did I,’ cried Marian. ‘ But never mind, I will plague them all with it when 
I get home to Westwood. And if I can keep our dear old vicar awake a whole 
night, like the clergyman you named, Miss Walker, so much the better. He has 
often been the cause of my going to sleep when I wanted to keep awake; so if I 
keep him awake when he wants to go to sleep, it will be, to me at any rate, an 
agreeable mode of retaliation.’ 

Miss Walker shook her head rather gravely at this speech, saying, ‘ Ah, Marian, 
you forget a certain old proverb, or rather you very often illustrate it by your doings. 
They say if you give some people an inch they will take an ell.’ 

‘ But, dear Miss Walker, this is playtime, and I am sure I never mean to 
displease you with my offhand ways any more than I would do anything disrespectful 
to our darling old vicar at home. We all love him just like a second father. But 
you spoke gibout the other clergyman being kept awake by trying to find out the 
trick of that game, and it brought quite a host of droll thoughts into my head. I 
remembered how terribly often as a tiny child I had fallen asleep with our vicar’s 
voice sounding in my ears, though I tried hard to keep awake. And when dear 
mamma saw me nearly nodding my small head off, besides making all the other 
children laugh, she used to lift me on her knee and cuddle me close up under her 
shawl or mantle out of sight. There I slept in peace, and disturbed nobody.’ 

The teacher’s face relaxed into a smile, for nobody could withstand Marian’s 
frank explanations, and Miss Walker was one of the most sympathetic of human 
beings, especially where youth and truth went hand in hand. 

This talk took place on Saturday in the early evening. The day had been 
gloriously fine and the holiday hours thoroughly enjoyed in the open air. But now 
a soft white vapour floated over the ground, and the slowly rising mist showed that 
it would be wiser to spend the rest of the evening indoors. Marian had received a 
favourable answer from her mother, but for reasons of her own had decided rot 
to say anything about the invitation which it enclosed for Bertha until the end 
of another week, and even Clara knew nothing about it. 

* What game shall we have to-night?’ asked Alice. 

‘Something quiet, as it is so close and warm, and we have tired ourselves out 
of doors with “ whip ” and tennis.’ 

‘ I have been making up one that I think will exercise our memories and 



316 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


perhaps find us some amusement, though I warn you beforehand it is a “ goody 
game,” ’ said Nellie, with a significant glance in Bertha’s direction. 

‘ Shall we require maps, globes, dictionaries, or what?’ was the general inquiry. 

‘Nothing at all but our tongues and memories. Being monitor this week, I 
was careful not to think of any wise game that might involve the taking out and 
putting away of school materials for which I am responsible.’ 

‘ Let us begin, or I shall join Grannie at her knitting,’ said Marian. 

‘ Grannie is putting her knitting away,’ replied Bertha. ‘ Miss Walker, will 
you take part in this game?’ 

‘ Certainly. I may as well improve my memory also by exercising it. I suppose 
we had better sit round the table?’ 

‘Yes. Now listen. The game is called “ Conveyances.” The first player 
says, “I am going a journey.” The next asks, “On sea or land?” You 
answer, “Land,” perhaps Then you are asked, “In what quarter of the globe? 
North, south, east or west?” and, lastly, “By what conveyance?” This having 
been answered, you must guess the name of the country in which this kind of 
conveyance is used. If you are very much puzzled, a fifth question may be asked, 
but no more. If you cannot guess the name of the country, you pay a forfeit; it 
passes on to the next, and so on, until it gets, we will say, to Miss Walker, who 
is sure to know, and must therefore come in last. If you do not see the game 
all at once, you will understand it directly by practice. I will begin now, if 
you like.’ 

Nellie :—‘ I am going a journey.’ 

Clara :—‘ On sea or land ?’ 

‘Neither,’ said Nellie, with a roguish face. 

‘ Come, young person, no trifling with serious matters. You forget that we 
possess some geographical knowledge, and that one of the first facts put before 
the juvenile mind is that “the surface of the earth is divided into land and 
water.” Perhaps you mean to go down a coal mine in a basket or up in a balloon.’ 

‘ Neither,’ said Nellie a second time. ‘ I have heard of castles in the air, but 
never of countries. I am adhering strictly to the game as I have laid it down, 
and I consider those remarks of yours equivalent to a question.’ 

Clara :—‘ 1 guess. You are going a journey on a river; but in what quarter 
•of the world ?’ 

‘ Africa.’ 

‘ Then I think I can guess without troubling you to answer the other questions. 
You are going up the Nile in one of those boats called a “dahabieh” or 
“ dahabeeah.” I have seen the word spelt both ways, and the boatTtself looks 
very pretty in a picture.’ 

‘I have made my question too easy,’ said Nellie. ‘You are so dreadfully/ 
sharp, Clara. I will ask something harder next time.’ 

Clara :—‘ I am going a journey.' 

Bertha :—‘ By sea or land ?’ 

‘ I may as well answer by river, at 0000/ 

‘ By what conveyance ?’ 

‘ A steamboat.’ 

‘ Much too general. I thought the conveyance must be peculiar to the 
country, and steamboats are found almost everywhere.’ 




RECREA TION. 


3i7 


Clara :—‘ I will add something to the description. A steamboat which is 
flat-bottomed, so as to go on a very shallow river.’ 

‘In what quarter of the world; and whether north, south, east, or west?’ 
obtained the answers, ‘ Europe ’ and ‘ south-east.’ 

The girls looked puzzled, and there was a whispered consultation amongst 
them. Bertha asked if the river were some very out-of-the-way one and little known. 

‘ Certainly not. It is reckoned amongst the principal rivers of Europe.’ 

Bertha guessed the Danube; but Clara shook her head and demanded a forfeit. 
Some very random suggestions were made, and quite a crop of forfeits was 
gathered as the harvest from ‘ blunder seed,’ as Marian called the mistakes. Some 
of these were very stupid, as the girls, not thinking of the position of the river 
alluded to, had guessed at random. It was now Miss Walker’s turn, and she at 
once answered, ‘ The river Don.’ This was right. 

‘ Your question was not an easy one, Clara. I am not sure that I should have 
thought of the Don if I had not lately read a work in which the author mentions 
the extreme shallowness of that river, and names two incidents in illustration. One 
was, that the steamer was stopped or turned from its direct course in order not 
to run down a man who was crossing it on horseback. The other was about a 
passenger, who, finding that there was no landing-place at a particular part of the 
river at which he wished to stop, coolly jumped overboard and waded to the bank.’ 

‘Thank you, Miss Walker. We are all a little wiser than ever we were in our 
lives before. But I think it is hardly fair to pick such out-of-the-way places to 
begin with ; do you?’ asked Bertha. 

‘ Well, perhaps these were rather difficult for the first; but this game is to tell 
about rather unusual “ conveyances.” I am going on a journey.’ 

‘ In what quarter of the globe ?’ 

‘ In three different ones—Europe, Asia, and North America, and in the north 
of each.’ 

‘Winter or summer?’ was the next question suggested. 

‘ Winter.’ 

‘Then you will travel by sledge, which will be drawn by reindeer in Lapland, 
horses in Siberia and Canada, and by dogs if you visit Greenland,’ said Nellie, who 
went the next journey, and again puzzled her companions. 

It was in Northern Europe; but she was going alone, she said; would have 
neither horse, dog, reindeer, nor sledge ; and yet she would not walk. 

Alice Milne at length guessed that the journey would be performed on skates, 
and then the rest wondered that they could have forgotten how rapidly the 
Laplanders journey, and what great distances they travel by means of their huge, 
clumsy-looking skates. 

Alice :—‘ I am going a journey—Europe; central part.’ 

‘ Land or sea ?’ 

‘ Land. In fact, I shall ascend a mountain by one conveyance, and descend it 
by another.’ 

This was soon guessed. It was to go up the Rigi, in Switzerland, by that 
wonderful mountain railway with its three rows of rails, the middle one adapted 
for a cog wheel to work upon, and with only one carriage to each queer-looking 
engine. Then there was the coming down by a different method. Alice said she 
did not walk, or come by railway, or ride. Again forfeits accumulated, but Bertha 




3 i 8 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


suggested that she was carried down, and named the conveyance a chaise d 
porteur , which is an arm-chair borne on poles, and common in Switzerland. 

This was right, and Bertha next went a journey, which was also up the side 
of a precipice, and by a mountain pass. There were many wrong guesses as to 
the mode of travelling, and at last Bertha named it. It was by ‘ The Ladders,’ 
a peasants’ road to Albinen, a mountain village in Southern Switzerland. The 
precipice is scaled at all seasons of the year by men, women, and children, the 
only road to the top being a number ot cither crazy-looking ladders pinned by 
hooked sticks to the face of the rock. Bertha told that she had herself stood at 
the foot of the Ladders, but had not ascended them. 

There was a general outcry against Bertha’s way of putting things, and a demand 
for the return of forfeits. 

Miss Walker was appealed to, and decided that the Ladders were a road, not a 
conveyance, and therefore Bertha had to return the other forfeits and pay one 
herself. 

Many journeys were undertaken in France and Switzerland by diligence, on the 
Adriatic in gondolas, on Canadian lakes and rivers in canoes, in Chinese waters on 
board a junk, over Russian steppes in a tarantass, up an English canal in a barge, 
on mules, horses, and donkeys in various lands. One crossed an Arabian desert on 
a camel, another on a fleet Arab steed, and lastly Marian said, ‘ I am going a 
journey.’ To the various questions which followed she answered, ‘ On land; in 
Europe, south.’ 

Then came the inquiry, ‘ By what conveyance ? ’ 

‘ On foot, and yet not on my feet,’ was Marian’s answer. 

‘ Then, if on foot, you cannot say the journey is by any conveyance.’ 

‘No more were the Laplander’s skates a conveyance,’ returned Marian; ‘but 
they so far assisted him that he could travel over a large tract of country by their 
aid, and at a speed which he could not have attained without them. This mode of 
travelling by which I journey is the one peculiar to the part of the country in which 
I purpose to make a tour.’ 

Nobody guessed this. Even Miss Walker was fined, to the intense delight of 
her pupils, and amidst a shout of applause. 

‘We all give it up; you must tell, Marian,’ which that young person did in one 
word, and with^the triumphant expression of countenance to be expected, considering 
that she was the only girl who had puzzled Miss Walker. 

‘ Stilts ’ was the word; but it was met by a chorus of protestations. ‘ People go 
on stilts anywhere if they choose. I do not think you can call them a mode of 
travelling peculiar to a country.’ 

‘ So you can on skates; but the Laplander’s skates are not like ours, and I 
maintain that there is also one division of a large European country where the 
people habitually use stilts as helps to locomotion.’ 

Marian looked towards Miss Walker, and the teacher at once replied, ‘ Marian is 
right. The peasants of the Landes, a department on the West of France, constantly 
use stilts. They are, so to speak, a specialit'e of the district. I deserve to pay a 
forfeit for having forgotten this when it came to my turn to guess what was in 
Marian’s mind.’ 

There was another journey by a wheeled conveyance from the Land’s End to 
John O’Groats; but as Bertha insisted that it was neither drawn by horse, mule, ass, 




RECREATION. 


3*9 

nor any animal commonly used for such a purpose, it seemed a puzzling conveyance. 
Wheel-barrows and hand-carts were guessed, amongst much laughter; but it 
proved to be a bicycle, and everybody wondered that it was not the first thing 
thought of. 

‘ It often happens/ said Miss Walker, ‘ that the very simplicity of the thing, and 
the fact that it is so frequently before our eyes, prevents us from thinking about it, 
and we go a long way to find what is close to our own threshold. I think this game 
of yours a very good one, Nellie. It causes plenty of amusement; brings out 
information at the time, and will, no doubt, set some of you to work to obtain more, 
in order to puzzle your companions the next time you play at it.’ 

* Now let us try to invent some new ways of redeeming the forfeits. Will you 
officiate as judge, Miss Walker?’ 

Miss Walker agreed to name four ways of redeeming or, as the girls said, ‘ to 
pass sentence on four culprits/ and accordingly she knelt down and, with covered 
eyes, gave the following. 

‘ Confess a fault and name one of your next neighbour’s good qualities.’ 

This fell to Clara, who promptly answered, ‘I speak without thinking, and my 
neighbour is a good listener.’ 

As the good qualities of Clara’s neighbour were rather of the negative sort, she 
being distinguished for nothing in particular, the answer was considered very 
appropriate. 

Alice Milne was sentenced to spell the three most difficult words that Clara 
could think of in one minute, and then write them down backwards. The words 
selected were pseudonym, empyrean, and gnat. As Alice was about the worst 
speller in the school, this penalty would probably have given her occupation for a 
considerable time but for the whispered aid of a sharp little neighbour, and Alice was 
much relieved when her forfeit was once more in her own possession. 

Marian was told to find as many rhymes to the word joke as she could remember 
and write in two minutes, and then- 

* Then what else ? ’ was asked. 

‘ Do what has been told you, and you shall know the rest/ was Miss Walker’s 
answer as she rose from her knees with a laughing face. 

Marian went on energetically, ‘Joke, coke, cloak, croak, broke, folk, poke, soak, 
stoke, stroke, smoke, spoke, yolk, oak/ when ‘ Time’s up’ was called. 

The other forfeits imposed by girls who followed Miss Walker were old ones, such 
as ‘ put yourself through the keyhole ’—done by writing the word on a piece of 
paper and slipping it through ; ‘ answer six questions without saying I, no, or yes 
< repeat without laughing any laughable rhyme or anecdote that your next neighbour 
may dictate‘ place your right hand where your left cannot touch it,’ which was 
done by clasping the left elbow with it—till, the forfeits and playtime being equally 
exhausted, the girls prepared for bed after a thoroughly merry evening. 

CHARADE. 

Word—‘ Holidays.’ 

A slight orthographical liberty being taken with the first two syllables in the 
opening part, which represents ‘ Holly.’ 




320 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Characters. 

Mamma (Mrs. Keith). 

Four Children (Annie, Harry, Hilda, and Tom). 

Aunt Alice. 

The Parlour Maid (Mary). 

Party of carol singers , or waits , not less than four in number , but as many more as 
you like. 

Scene I. A lady is sitting in a drawing-room with young children about her. On 
the floor is a large open basket , or tray , containing sprigs of holly , which the 
children break into suitable pieces and hand to the mamma. She twists them into 
a wreath and binds them together with fine wire. 

Time —December 21, Evening. 

( Youngest child, Tom, yawns , drops his hands on his lap with a weary look , and 
says — 

I think it must be nearly time for bed. 

Was it this morning that the gardener said, 

‘ We’ve reached the shortest day’ ? He must be wrong. 

I’m sure I never knew one half so long. 

Mamma, mamma, when will these wreaths be done? 

At first this garland work was famous fun ; 

But all the funny part is long since past, 

And each tough stem seems tougher than the last. 

I tried a knife, when, ah, unlucky elf! 

I meant to cut a twig, but cut myself. 

Ivy and laurel wreaths were well enough; 

But, oh, this holly is such prickly stuff! 

Look at my fingers. ( Holds them up.) 

Second Child (Harry). — Yes, and look at mine. ( Holds up his hands.) 
Third Child (Annie, the eldest of the four).—And poor mamma has 
had them all to twine. 

We’ve only cut the sprays for her to use. 

A trifling task, and yet you would excuse 
Yourselves from further labour. Fie, for shame ! 

Mamma. —Hush, Annie dear, you really must not blame 
These tiny workers; they have done their part, 

And done it well; though little fingers smart 
With many a thorn, and each dear weary head 
Longs for old nurse’s summons, ‘ Come to bed.’ 

Fourth Child (Hilda).—Annie, it was not kind to say ‘ For shame.’ 
I’m sure papa quite wondered when he came 
And saw how much we’d done. I know he said, 

Putting his hand upon Tom’s curly head, 

And cuddling me quite close upon his knee— 

1 These willing hands make labour light. I see 
You’ve changed my study to a fairy bower ; 

And these small folks have helped with all their power.* 



RECREA TIOJN. 


321 


He kissed us then with such a merry smile, 

And asked how much we’d done ? Tom said, ‘ A mile.’ 

(Aunt Alice enters in out-door costume , shakes ha?ids with all ’ and kisses the children ,* 
then , at Mamma’s request, takes oft her jacket and sits down with little Tom upon 
her knee.) 

Aunt Alice. —I had to pass the gate, so thought I’d come 
And ask when all the rest are to be home. 

Have you had news ? 

Mamma. —Yes; letters came to-day 
From Winifred and Mabel, just to say 
That on the twenty-third they will be here, 

And Winny adds, 1 Mamma, we’ve such a dear 
Sweet darling schoolfellow, the best of girls; 

She is so good. And she has lovely curls l 
Her parents are abroad ; too far away 
For her to join them ; and she was to stay 
The holidays with friends who love her well, 

When, all at once, a letter came to tell 
Of sickness in their home. She cannot go; 

And what to plan our teacher does not know. 

Do ask if she may come to us instead; 

Now don’t say No. She may have half my bed. 

I’ve heard you say our house was full before, 

Still there was always room for just one more. 

Write by return. You really must say Yes. 

And I’ll the postage pay with many a kiss; 

I cannot write one-half that’s in my head, 

So close, with love to all, from Winifred.’ 

Aunt Alice. —So like that loving child. What shall you do? 
Mamma. —Write her the ‘ Yes ’ she asks for; one or two 
The more amidst our merry, noisy clan 
Will only make us happier. 

(Turns to Tom, a?id shows him the wreath completed ’) 

Little man 


Our task is done; this wreath is quite the last. 

Now I must write, or post-time will be past. 

(Mamma lays finished wreath on the basket , and sits down to answer Winifred’s 
letter , in which she encloses a second note; then , having closed the envelope , she 
hands it to Harry, saying )— 

Tell John to post this letter, and not wait 
A moment, or I fear it may be late. 

(Child goes out of the room with the letter.) 

Aunt Alice. —My own dear boys have sent a line to me 
Saying they bring a comrade who will be 
Like sunshine in the house; no time to tell 
More than this much, ‘ You’re sure to like him well.’ 

Mamma. —Guests add a little to our household cares ; 

But love makes light of this, and, unawares, 



3-2 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


We may have angd guests in earthly guise. 

In any case, it surely must be wise 

To help our children when they wish to share 

Their joys with others and to lighten care. 

(At this moment singrng is heard. Mamma, Aunt Alice, and the children , including 
Harry, who is come back after taking the letter, go to the window and look out , but 
cannot see the singers.) 

Mamma. —They must be in the hall; I’ll ring the bell. 

(Does so, and Mary, the parlour-maid, appears.) 

Who are those singers, Mary; can you tell ? 

Mary. —They are the waits, and will be glad to know 
If you will hear them sing before they go. 

(Voices come nearer, and words can be distinguished by the listeners in the drawing- 
room.) 

Chorus. —Heigho, sing heigho unto the green holly; 

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. 

Then heigho ! the holly, the holly ! 

This life is most jolly, most jolly, 

This life is most jolly . 1 

(Enter Waits, in thick coats and shawls and woollen comfor 'ers, the males hats in 
hand. They bow awkwardly, and ask leave to sing. On receiving permission 
they sing the glee all through, and then the leader says, after the children have 
clapped and applauded the singing )— 

Please, ma’am, we’d like to sing a carol too. 

Mamma. —A carol! No, indeed, that will not do. 

It is too soon. But come on Christmas Eve 
Again, and I will gladly give you leave. 

(She gives money to the leader, arid the singers go out, led by the parlour-711 aid, saying 
all together as they make their bows and curtseys )— 

Good night! Good night! Good luck to all, 

Right soon we’ll make another call. 

(Aunt Alice resumes her out-door dress, saying )— 

Now I must go. 

Mamma.— And these must all to bed, 

Or I shall hear of many an aching head. 

(They all go out, the little ones led by Mamma and Aunt Alice, the elder children 
following .) 

END OF FIRST SCENE. 


SCENE II. 

Characters. 

Governess and School Girls (named Winifred, Maggie, Emma. Nellie, 
Louie, &c.) 

1 This is a part of the chorus to a beautiful glee, called 1 Blow, Blow, Thou Winter 
Wind,’ published, at a very trifling price, by Novello & Co., and forming a number of 
their Standard Glee Books. 




RECREA TION. 


323 


Word —‘ Days.’ 

Time —December 22nd, 11 a.m. 

A Schoolroom. 

{A number of girls sitting at desks or tables , and occupied in various ways , with books , 
slates , maps , 6r>c. , scattered up and down. One girl takes a pen , opetis a small 
memorandum book a?id carefully crosses out something .; then closes the book with an 
air of great satisfaction, and puts it in her pocket .) 

Maggie. —What are you doing, Winny ? 

Winifred. —That’s the last 
But one. The tedious days are nearly past, 

Just a few hours of work, and then, away 
To weeks and weeks of home and joy and play. 

No tiresome bell to ring us in to school, 

No crosses or bad marks for breach of rule, 

Nor anything to do that is not nice. 

Maggie.—W hat were you marking? 

Winifred ( taking book out of her pocket again'). —Listen, in a trice 
I’ll tell you all about it. ’Tis a way 
I have of marking off each tiresome day 
That comes between mamma, and home, and me. 

I started it six weeks ago. You see 
(Opens book andpornts to the page.) 

I drew six rows of strokes—in each was seven— 

And every morning when it struck eleven 
I crossed one off. Now there is only one; 

By twelve to-morrow we shall all be gone. 

Maggie. —Not all. Alas ! not all. I shall be left. 

The hour which brings you joy leaves me bereft 
Of all my playfellows. 

(Puts her hand before her face and appears to be weeping.) 

Nellie. —Oh, Maggie dear, 

I am so sorry we must leave you here ; 

It grieves me, too, to think that you will be 
Alone and sad, in this dull house, while we 
Are scattered north, and south, and east, and west, 

To pass our time with those we love the best 
I’d like to take you with me, but we spend 
The next ten days with father’s oldest friend. 

But dry your tears, my darling. 

(Draws Maggie’s head lovingly on her shoulder , wipes her eyes and kisses her , then 
turns sharply round to a little girl who approaches , slate in hand , a?id with a 
beseeching look at Nellie.) 

Little Dunce, 

What do you want ? 

Louie. —Please, just this once 
To help me with my sum ; it won't come right , 

Although I did it seven times last night; 


Y 2 



324 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


And it was always wrong. 

Winifred. —And likely, too, 

It should be wrong. The stupid things you do, 

You careless child, would almost drive me mad ; 

I tell you, Louie, I am very glad 

I’m not your teacher. See, now; there are seven, 

Six, five, two, three'. You say they make eleven ! 

And, out of seven, three, six, and just one more, 

You nicely calculate an even score ! 

Maggie. —She’s such a little thing—at six years old 
We don’t know much of figures ! do not scold 
A weeping child. Come hither, little mite, 

And do your sum with me : ’twill soon be right. 

(Takes the slate from Louie and makes little groups of strokes upon it, con'esponding 
with the numbers the child has to add, then says to her )— 

Count all these strokes and see what they will make. 

Put down the six. The one we onward take 
To the next line, and add it with the rest: 

They make eighteen. All’s done. 

Louie. —You are the best 
Of friends to little girls who want to play; 

I do so hate to be kept in all day. 

(Louie runs of joyfully, and as she does so the schoolroom door opens and the 
Governess enters with a number of letters in her hand. Governess distributing 
the letters as she speaks ')— 

Annie, there’s one for you. For Winny three. 

Maggie (aside). —I’m very sure there will be none for me. 
Governess. —Louie’s mamma a message sends in mine 
To say her train will start at five to nine, 

And that, two stations on, she will be met 
By Uncle Tom. Nellie must not forget 
To take her waterproof, for fear of rain, 

As brother James will bring the car again. 

The brougham is engaged for grandmamma, 

But Nellie will not mind, it is not far, 

And wraps and rugs in plenty will be sent. 

Nellie. — I like the open car, and am content 
With anything that bears me quickly on. 

Maggie.—I knew there was no letter. 

Winifred. —Here is one 
Enclosed in mine for you. Why do you stare ? 

As though it could not be. Come, take your share 
Of postal spoils, and, if you care for me, 

Pray read it quickly, Mistress Marjorie. 

(Maggie takes the letter held out by Winifred, ope7is it, and reads as follows )— 

‘ My dear Girl, 

* I have heard from one of my children that something has occurred to 
prevent your spending the vacation with the friends who hoped to welcome you. 



R EC RE A TION. 


3 2 5 


It will give my young people and myself great pleasure if your governess, who, I 
understand, arranges everything for you in the absence of your parents, will allow 
you to pass the next few weeks with us. She has known us so long that I do not 
think she will say “ No,” and I trust, my dear girl, you will accept this invitation in 
the loving spirit in which it is given. 

‘ I shall be delighted to count you as one amongst my rather large flock of 
youngsters, and for the time, and in order to make our house more like home, you 
must look upon me as your own dear mamma’s deputy. Ask anything of me that 
you would ask of her; come to me when you please, and try to think of me as 
representing, to the best of my power, that dear mother who is longing to have you 
with her again. 

‘ Hoping to see you arrive with my daughter Winny, and with love and kindest 
wishes, 

‘ Believe me, yours affectionately, 

1 Eleanor Keith.’ 


Maggie (with a look of bewildennent ).— 

Winny, you’ve played a trick. It can’t be true, 

Your mamma asks me to go home with you ! 

She has not even seen my face. 

Winifred. —As though 
That mattered, Maggie darling. You must go. 

I spoke beforehand to our teacher. She 
Is quite agreeable, and certainly 
We shall take no denial. Not a word 
Of doubt or protest; it will not be heard. 

(Winny puts her fingers to her ears , as if determined not to listen to a word from 
Maggie, and the teacher , laymg her hand affectionately on Maggie’s shoulder , 
says )— 

I can rejoice with you, my child; no fear 
That I shall say you nay, or keep you here. 

Go and be happy with these friends; and when 
The days of rest are past, come back again, 

With roses on your cheeks, once more to find 
A welcome here. 

Maggie. —You always are so kind. 

(Another girl comes to the governess and says )— 

Please may we put our work and books away ? 

We really cannot think of them to-day. 

Governess. —No wonder, dear; I know your thoughts will roam, 
However you may strive, to friends at home. 

Clear all away, and when this task is done 

Put on your garden hats and take a run 

For half an hour; then come and do your part— 

To make all ready for to-morrow’s start. 

(All the girls jump up, and, with thanks to the govtrness and exclamations of delight, 
rapidly clear away all school articles, and then run out , followed more quietly by 
the governess, who has beeti watching them with an amused face.) 

END OF SECOND SCENE. 



326 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


SCENE III. 

Complete Word—‘ Holidays.’ 

Time — Evening, December 23rd. 

Characters. 

Mamma, Papa, Annie, Hilda, Tom, Harry, Aunt Alice, Uncle James (her 
husband), Fred and Jack, their two boys, and their school friend, Charlie 
Freeman, Winifred and Maggie, and Mabel, an elder sister of Winny’s. 

(The drawing-room as in scene first. Mamma, Aunt Alice, and the four children are 
together. Nobody seems able to settle to any employ merit. First one and then another 
goes to the window , draws aside the curtains, and looks out , or appears to be listening 
for something. Mamma rises from her seat, goes to the fire , and stirs it vigorously .) 

Annie. —Mamma, you surely mean to roast us quite 
See what a blaze ! 1 do not think the night 

Is very cold. 

Mamma. —My child, you do not know 
How cuttingly this fierce north wind can blow, 

Clothed, fed, and sheltered, all your happy past 
Has been so bright. You never felt the blast 
Piercing your half-clad limbs, or hunger knew, 

Or suffering, from which love could shelter you. 

Aunt Alice.—T rue, but we have no starving people here. 

I wish with all my heart that we could cheer 
Each homeless wanderer with such a sight 
As waits our children when they come to-night. 

They will be glad enough to gather round 
This fireside. Hark ! was not that a sound 
Of coming wheels ? It surely must be time. 

Mamma. —I hear no sound except the merry chime 
Of evening bells, ringing, so soft and sweet, 

Through the clear air. 

Aunt Alice. —I’d rather hear the feet 
Of trampling horses and the shout of boys. 

To me sweet music now were only noise 
And hateful discord. All my listening ear 
Is for my children. Would that they were here ! 

(Looks at her watch , then puts it to her ear to listen if it is going ; then compares it 
with Mamma’s watch.) 

Mamma {holding out hers). —See, sister, they are both alike. ’Tis 
only we 

Whose thoughts are in advance of Time, and he 
Goes hobbling on with the same lagging feet 
Now as of old, when joy we fain would meet. 

But, oh the change ! No sooner do we grasp 
The happiness we longed for, than our clasp 
We tighten round it, and would gladly tie 
The feet of Father Time, lest he rush by 




RECREA TION. 


327 


Too rapidly; and, all unpitying, tear 

From loving hearts what most we cherish there. 

{The children are now all standing at the windows and peeping behind the curtains , 
hoping to catch the first glimpse of the expected travellers.) 

E7iter Papa and Uncle James. 

Mamma. —What! Are you here ? We really thought you went 
To meet the children. 

Papa. —We must be content to wait with you. 

Aunt Alice.—I think the train is late. 

Tom ( shouts , while all the others clap their ha?ids )— 

I see a carriage. It is past the gate. 

Harry. —And there’s another, both are coming round. 

Annie.—I see the girls. 

Harry. —And don’t you hear the sound 
Of boys hurrahing? Yes, they come, they come ! 

Uncle James. —And lads approaching home are never dumb. 

The door is open ; now the frosty air 
Steals in. 

Aunt Alice. —And now their feet are on the stair. 

(Winifred, Maggie, a?i elder girl , Fred, Jack, a?id Charlie Freeman all come 
clattering in , and there is a general shaking of ha?ids a7id e77ibracing between 
parents a7id children. All the travellers are in out-door costwne and wa> mly 
wrapped. Maggie is led forward by Winnie and introduced to Mamma, who 
kisses her affectionately.) 

Winifred. —Here is the child you wrote for. 

Mamma. —Maggie dear, 

I’m very glad indeed to see you here. 

I trust, my child, we shall find many ways 
To make you happy through the holidays. 

I cannot show you all my flock to-night; 

It is not often they are all in sight. 

Papa {shaking hands with Maggie).— 

Our children by instalments you must see : 

They sometimes very nearly frighten me— 

There’s such a tribe of little Keiths. Ah well! 

They’re dearer to our hearts than lips can tell. 

Some are upstairs, the smallest are in bed. 

[Points to the elder youths , who have just arrived, a7id have bee7i specially welcomed 
by Aunt Alice a7id Uncle James.) 

These are Aunt Alice’s, both Jack and Fred. 

Uncle James p introducing Charlie Freeman). — 

And this our visitor, who comes, like you, 

To make another home the happier too. 

(Maggie starts , then darts forward towards Charlie Freeman.) 

Maggie. —My cousin Charlie, if I may believe 
My eyes ! but think they surely must deceive. 

Charlie. —There’s no mistake at all; just then I was 
Wondering what brought you here, my little coz. 




‘SHOWING CONSIDERABLE INDEPENDENCE WITH REGARD TO TUNE.’ 



























































































































































MRS. JARLEY'S WAXWORKS. 


329 


Uncle James.—T his is a glad surprise ; but you, our guest, 

Must with these boys go to our proper nest. 

Aunt Alice.— Yet, happily, though you must part to-night, 

’Twill be to meet again with morning light. 

(All the boys and girls here begin to sing the following verses , making a great deal of 
noise, a?id showing considerable independence with regard to tune , their principal 
object being to make the performance as vigorous as possible. The elder people 
laugh , and pretend to stop their ears . As the song draws to a close , Mamma leads 
out the two little ones , while Annie, Hilda, Winnie, Maggie, and the elder 
sister follow. Papa accompanies Aunt Alice and Uncle James with the three 
boys to the door. The last four lines should be sung as they are going out of the 
room , and the sound should at last die away in the distance!) 

Holiday Song. 

Hurrah ! Hurrah for the holidays! 

Shan’t we be having some fun? 

Won’t we be having some jolly days 
Now the vacation’s begun? 

We’ll turn the house out of the windows, 

And turn it in back at the doors ; 

We’ll empty the dairy and larder, 

And eat up the chickens by scores. 

Hurrah ! Hurrah for the holidays ! 

Which bring us such pleasure and fun; 

We hope to have nothing but jolly days 
Now the vacation’s begun. 

No doubt we shall wear out the carpets, 

With clattering upstairs and down; 

Some parents might grumble, but ‘ Mother* 

Won’t give us the ghost of a frown. 

Hurrah ! Hurrah for the holidays 1 
This is the first of our fun; 

This is the best of all jolly days, 

For the vacation’s begun. 

End of Charade. 


MRS. JARLEY’S WAXWORKS. 

A Game for the Fireside. 

We were all sitting round the fire one winter’s night feeling very cosy and 
comfortable, although the wind was rumbling in the chimney and whistling through 
the keyhole and along the corridor, and the snow was beating very loudly against 
the window panes. Tea had been over some time, and Hugh had been telling us a 
Christmas story he had just read, and a pause had taken place in our fun, a lull as 
it were in the storm of our amusements previous to its breaking out again more 
boisterously than ever. I fancy if any one could have looked through the windows 




330 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


(they could not, for we had drawn the curtains so as to preclude every possibility of 
draught) they would have said we were indeed a merry party. To begin with, there 
were five of us, Tom and Mary, Ruth and Hugh, and myself; then there were our 
cousins, Walton and Maggie and Bella, besides aunts and uncles, schoolfellows and 
friends, all assembled there to celebrate Christmas time, as only English people know 
how to, and that only thoroughly in a large, old-fashioned house. Pauses like this 
are always uncomfortable, for those who are talking suddenly become aware that the 
rest of the company is quiet, and one’s voice seems to be unpleasantly loud when it 
is a solo instrument surrounded by a mute orchestra of listeners. Whether it was 
the wind that howled particularly mournfully just then, or the snow we could hear 
striking against the panes that caused this silence to fall upon us, I cannot say, but 
after the large clock in the corner had ticked solemnly for two minutes, some one 
(I did not notice who, for it struck the ear so strangely after the two minutes’ dead 
silence) asked the very pertinent question, ‘ What shall we do ? ’ I dare say this 
thought had been occupying every one’s attention during these awful minutes, but 
hitherto no one had ventured to give the company the benefit of his cogitations. 

‘ I know ! ’ said Maggie, as the power of speech was restored to her by the 
question just asked. ‘ Let us have waxworks.’ 

Now, when one suggests waxworks, it generally brings to the mind Madame 
Tussaud’s wonderful collection of models, or some show at a country fair ; but as we 
were not near Madame Tussaud’s, and there being no fairs at this time of the year, 
the whole company assembled instantly besieged Maggie simultaneously with the 
question, ‘What are waxworks ? ’ The lull had indeed been succeeded by quite a 
tempest of words, everybody being anxious to say something to everybody else, 
while others seemed particularly unwilling to listen. 

‘ Don’t know what waxworks are ? ’ said Maggie. ‘ Then we’ll have them this 
evening, and you shall see for yourselves. But I must have volunteers for the 
service, so I’ll be like a captain in want of sailors, and set about picking my men.’ 
Maggie had as yet not said a word as to what waxworks were, so as she chose the 
members of the company we were marched out of the room to learn all about it when 
we got outside. 

The room we had been sitting in opened into the next by folding doors, and 
while one arranged the audience so as to face the folding doors, Maggie was 
instructing us in the next room in our several duties. 

‘ Here, Chris,’ said Maggie to me, when we were all in the other room, ‘ you 
have to be Mrs. Jarley, and dress up as the owner of the waxworks.’ 

‘And who is Mrs. Jarley?’ said I, forgetting for the moment that historical 
personage. 

‘ Why, the owner of the waxworks in The Old Curiosity Shop , of course.’ 

‘How stupid I am ! Of course it is,’ as Nell and her grandfather, and Coulin 
and Short, the Punch and Judy men, came to my mind at the mention of Dickens’s 
story. 

It was rather a formidable undertaking to assume at five minutes’ notice the 
character of Mrs. Jarley; but with the help of a large old-fashioned poke bonnet—the 
relic of a departed generation—a blue shawl, old cotton dress, and a regular ‘ Sairey 
Gamp’ umbrella, I was told by Maggie that she thought I would do, the only 
improvement she could suggest being a veil to come just over my forehead, so as to 
make my face less distinguishable. 




MRS. JARLEY'S WAXWORKS. 


33i 


While I had been dressing she had arranged the other characters in a semicircle 
in the following order : William Penn, with his snuff-box, Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII., 
and the executioner; Dr. Johnston, Grace Darling, Bluebeard and his wife; while 
lying on the floor in the centre, with her head resting upon a bolster, and some 
muslin thrown negligently over her, was the Sleeping Beauty. 

Of course, it took some little time to dress the various characters up with 
antimacassars, shawls, coloured scarves, old coats and hats, and the other accessories 
that are to be found in most houses. I had occupied this interval in jotting down 
the heads of my speech, for I was to give a mock lecture on the historical aspect of 
waxworks, and afterwards explain the various figures. 

There was one other character I have not mentioned, and he was the poet 
Mrs. Jarley kept. He was to recite some verses written after the style of the 
lines— 

‘ If I had a donkey and he wouldn’t go 
To see Mrs. Jarley’s waxwork show, 

Do you think I’d own him ! Oh ! no, no ! ’ 

and also to be general odd man, and to do anything I ordered him. This was an 
important office, for all the waxworks to be exhibited were mechanical ones, and 
before we threw open the folding doors Maggie had made each figure rehearse the 
movements it was supposed best suited the character. 

William Penn, of course, took snuff, Henry VIII. moved his hand to motion the 
executioner to use his axe, whereupon Anne Boleyn placed her head upon a box, 
which served as the block. Dr. Johnson had to recite ‘How doth the little busy 
bee,’ though whether that poem was a favourite of the Doctor’s we didn’t stay to 
inquire. Grace Darling sat on a low chair, with a long pole, to represent the action 
of rowing, and Bluebeard’s wife knelt supplicatingly to him, asking for forgiveness, 
while he closed his ears with his hands in the most inexorable way. The Sleeping 
Beauty was to remain covered up until last, when the poet was to come forward and 
take the coverlet off, and display the chef (Voeuvre of waxwork art. 

‘ Now, mind,’ said Maggie, ‘as the doors are about to be thrown open to display 
my great collection of waxworks to the British public, to wit, our friends in the next 
room, try to think you are waxworks for the time being (a thing a good many people 
don’t find very difficult to do in real life), and when you are wound up, try to work 
as mechanically as you can, like one of those moving dolls you see sometimes. 
Mind that group of Henry VIII., Anne Boleyn, and the executioner work together 
simultaneously, just as though you were all moved by the same machinery, and you, 
too, Bluebeard and his wife.’ 

Everything being now ready, Maggie went to announce the opening of the show, 
and to play a prelude on the piano. It suddenly struck me that as mechanical 
figures often fail in their actions, so we might imitate such failures with good effect. 
In the few minutes I had to spare I, therefore, communicated my ideas to the others, 
and they were delighted with the notion. I arranged that after they had gone 
through the movements right once or twice, they were to get more and more 
uncertain, as though the machinery were getting out of order—William Penn was to 
carry the snuff to his ear or nose, the executioner was to bring down his axe after 
Anne Boleyn had lifted her head from the block, Dr. Johnson was to get very 
muddled over the verse, and the other characters in like manner. 

I may here state that I began to feel very stuffy under the poke bonnet, and 




332 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


decidedly hot with the extra clothing I had on, besides a slight tremor I experienced 
as the doors were thrown open; but as I was in for it I gulped down my qualms, 
and commenced my address. 

I had very little notion of what I was going to say, trusting to the excitement of 
the moment, and it is astonishing how ideas came to one under the influence of the 
surroundings and when wound up for the occasion. I dilated upon the uses of wax- 
works, for were they not faithful representations of historical characters ? and often 
the only likenesses (?) we could see of the great people of the past. Of the great art 
there was in making them and dressing them up to suit any particular character that 
might be popular at the time; and how I carried a few undressed figures with me, 
so that if in any town I visited some noted man and woman had died, I could give a 
faithful representation of them. And how careful I had to be to remember which 
figure I had used as Napoleon, so that when I changed it into, say, Wellington, the 
people shouldn’t recollect its former use. Here I regaled them with one or two 
anecdotes of how I got out of such difficulties when they occurred. Then I drew 
attention to my own unrivalled collection, and proceeded to call my poet to recite 
his verses, and to begin to wind up the figures and set them in motion; for 1 
explained that mine had been constructed at great expense to work in such life-like 
manner that even Nature might be deceived by them. 

William Penn was first wound up, the noise of machinery being imitated by a 
rattle at the side, but to my astonishment it didn’t essay to move. This, of course, 
had been prearranged. So I excused it by saying that the frost had had a wonderful 
effect on the figures, and seemed to make them stick, so I commanded my poet to 
shake William Penn. The effect of this was very comic, and instantly produced a 
laugh, for Hugh, who took this character, did it admirably, and allowed himself to 
be pushed about in a very wooden fashion. After that he took snuff at a fast rate. 

The group of Henry VIII. was now wound up, and worked as Maggie had 
instructed them. Dr. Johnson gave trouble, as my poet had over-wound him, and 
we had to let him run down, which he did very convulsively, and then rewound him, 
whereupon he stuttered to such an extent with ‘ How doth the little busy bee,’ that 
I almost laughed myself, the effect was so ludicrous. Grace Darling and Bluebeard 
with his wife were wound up in turn, and to see some seven figures moving like so 
many machines was irresistible. Of course, each figure was explained on a new and 
improved system, and I am afraid historical facts got rather mixed up, for as I was 
supposed to be an illiterate old woman, it became the character to speak bad 
English and to be rather muddled on points of history. I somehow got into my 
head that Grace Darling was Joan of Arc, for it was supposed I had Joan of Arc in 
my collection, and being so used to showing it I was running on with the French 
heroine’s history, and on turning round to exemplify what I had been saying by the 
figure itself, discovered my mistake, and apologised accordingly, stating how the 
mistake arose. 

It was only now left to uncover the figure on the floor, which was done very 
impressively by the poet, for this was the most important figure of the whole lot, and 
the one I set great store by. I think Mary, who was taking the part of the Sleeping 
Beauty, must have hailed this moment with delight, for to be covered up with a 
shawl for some little time, and to lie in one position for so long, was, to say the 
least of it, tedious, if not tiring. The audience had been wondering all along what 
it was so carefully concealed, and when it was uncovered the effect was certainly 



THE PHYSICAL EDUCATION OF GIRLS. 


333 


very charming. The poet was directed by me to wind her up tenderly and with 
great care, for fear of disarranging any of the works, while I directed the audience to 
notice how naturally she would breathe. But she had been wound up too gently, for 
her breathing was almost imperceptible, so I directed the poet to give her another 
turn or two, and she then commenced to heave up and down not unlike the waves 
on the sea, which, of course, was rather disappointing in so fine a waxwork. 

The other figures, in the meantime, had been quieting down, only going through 
the movements at long intervals, for it gets very tiring to go through dumb motions 
for any length of time; so I ordered the poet to give them another turn to set them 
all in motion, and when they were in full swing, and just beginning to calm down, 
the doors were closed, and the exhibition was at an end. 

They had all acted their parts splendidly, and the whole thing was voted a great 
success. 

I don’t think the poet could have been taken better, for he thoroughly looked 
the character, being dressed very shabbily in clothes much too small for him, and 
presented the appearance of a servile drudge, such as Mrs. Jarley’s poet might have 
been. 

As for my part, they all said I had succeeded very well, and I think I rather 
surprised myself by my fluency, for I don’t think I had spoken so long ‘ extrumpery,’ 
as the old woman said in Punch , before. You can take advantage of every little 
hitch that occurs and turn it into good account, as many of the unrehearsed effects 
are the best and most laughter-moving. The great thing in this kind of amusement 
is to let it be spontaneous, and 1 think if I had taken the trouble to learn an 
elaborate speech by heart I should have failed. Poor wit, when apt and spoken at 
the opportune moment, is more effective than the most elaborate joke uttered late 
in the day, and, our waxworks being done on the spur of the moment, and with 
hardly any preparation beyond such as could be done with the things nearest to 
hand, and in the short time at our disposal, gave the whole performance that 
briskness and f go ’ which are the life and soul of such amusement. 

We had waxworks again another night with new characters, such as Columbus, 
Raleigh, Nelson, and other prominent personages; and I doubt not that since our 
first impersonation of ‘ Mrs. Jarley’s Waxwork Show ’ most of our performers have 
introduced the idea whenever the question has been asked, ‘ What shall we do ? ’ at 
a Christmas party. 


THE PHYSICAL EDUCATION OF GIRLS. 

From the number of works existing on education it might be supposed that nothing 
fresh* or rather of interest, remained to be said on the subject; and doubtless this 
is true as far as regards the mental education of girls, which in late years has 
taken such immense strides. But there is one branch which appears to me not 
to have as yet received that attention which it deserves; need I say that I allude 
to their physical education, concerning which, as the title of this section suggests, 
I would offer a few remarks ? 

Firstly, then, as to its necessity. In the case of boys we have but to look around 
us to see in what light it is regarded. A glance at any of the numerous school 





331 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


magazines, or even the ordinary daily papers, with their reports of athletic meetings, 
and accounts of football and cricket matches, &c., so often described in what seems 
to us so much unintelligible jargon, will assuredly testify that physical instruction is 
not forgotten or neglected in scholastic life. Indeed, to some anxious parents it 
would seem as though mental acquirements were too often subordinated to physical 
superiority, and one of our leading novelists took this view of the question in a 
well-known novel. At any rate, no school for boys now but has its athletic club, 
and few are without a gymnasium. 

If, then, the importance of duly training the body in conjunction with the mind 
is thus recognised in the case of our boys, surely the future wives and mothers of 
England—for such is the destiny of many girls—may lay claim to an equal share of 
attention in this respect. 

One of the most beneficial results of a really good education is undoubtedly the 

equilibrium established be¬ 
tween the respective powers, 
mental and physical. I might 
here quote that trite but ever- 
true line of Juvenal, Metis saner 
in corpore sano, which many of 
our girls have doubtless read 
when examining with admiring 
eyes the silver medals of the 
Oxford University Athletic 
Club, brought home and exhi¬ 
bited with manly pride by their 
brothers, or those brothers’ 
friends, who are oft-times of 
more interest in their eyes for 
the time being. I could add 
much more as to the neces¬ 
sity, but I have at least made 
out a primary case, and must 
pass on to more practical con¬ 
siderations, and the first of 
these that naturally presents 
itself is, At what age should 
this physical education commence? To which I reply, It can hardly begin 
too early, though of course all exercise should be proportionate to age. ‘ Let 
children,’ says Rousseau, ‘ have substantial nourishment; let them run and play in 
the open air and enjoy their liberty.' 

In these days of higher education for women we are apt to forget that, while 
forcing the mental faculties to the utmost at an early age, the precious time is 
slipping away during which their figures are being formed, and that habits are too 
often engendered which in later years cannot be abandoned or remedied. Many 
an anxious mother must have observed with pain how many hours her daughter is 
compelled to sit at her studies, the greater portion of the time being occupied in 
writing, and that at a desk which compels an attitude that must result in a stooping 
form. If not engaged in writing, she is probably at the piano, where the back 





FIG.: I 


FIC2. 













THE PHYSICAL EDUCATION OF GIRLS. 


335 


again, having no support, becomes weary and sinks on one side; then to the 
drawing-board, where the same stooping position produces a like result, inducing 
too often a curvature of the spine, as many of our doctors can testify. 

Moderate bodily exercise, taken under supervision, will do much to correct— 
nay, prevent—this mischief. Many of the subjects of the education of the day are 
matters which can be as well, or perhaps better and more thoroughly acquired after 
the age of seventeen. Not so a natural easy and graceful carriage. From infancy 
up to about the age I have just mentioned our bodies are being formed, and with 
them our habits, gait, and deportment. 

Habit is a frequent repetition of the same acts, causing different modifications 
in the organisation. In youth habit has the privilege of modifying the original 
constitution, and if the habit be a bad one, of injuring it so powerfully as to render 
the injury thus caused in¬ 
curable. How careful then 
should we be that during 
these few early years none 
but graceful, elegant, and 
healthy habits are acquired 
Of course, I am speakim 
now more particularly o: 
bodily habits, though the rule 
applies with equal force to 
all, whether physical or men¬ 
tal. It is useless to recom¬ 
mend a child already de¬ 
formed to keep straight; she 
may endeavour to make the 
effort, but following the bent 
of the acquired organisation, 
she quickly resumes the posi¬ 
tion that has become habitual. 

These considerations bring 
us to our second and prac¬ 
tical object—the best means 
of obtaining a good physical 
education for our girls ; and 
these are calisthenics, prac¬ 
tised when possible under a qualified teacher. 

Calisthenics, practised under proper supervision, are of incalculable benefit, not 
only as a means of remedying defects already acquired, but as a preventive. Many 
of my readers doubtless attend some class connected with their school or inde¬ 
pendent of it, but it is not so much to these I would address my remarks as to those 
who, from distance or some other valid reason, are unable to avail themselves of 
professional instruction. 

In a properly-constructed gymnasium there are, of course, numbers of fixed 
appliances which, while of immense value in themselves, are not only out of place, 
but impossible to be utilised at home. There are, however, some exercises which 
require either no appliances at all, or else such as, not being fixtures, are easily 










336 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


obtainable and simple in their use . 1 First among these comes the chest-expander, 
which can be procured at any surgeons’ mechanist’s or indiarubber warehouse. It 
consists of a strip of indiarubber secured at each end to a handle; the indiarubber 
varies in strength, and care should be taken in choosing an expander to select one 
proportioned to the age and strength of the girl. In the best makes the indiarubber 
is concealed by a long band of goffered silk, and the handles consist of shaped flat 
pieces of ebony or walnut having holes pierced for the fingers. I will now proceed 
to describe a few of the more simple forms of its use. 

The first easy exercise is as follows :— 

The girl must stand with her heels together, toes turned slightly outwards, 
knees straight, waist drawn, chest out, head up, shoulders down, and arms straight 
downward in front of the body, holding the expander loose, z>., without using its 

elasticity, the knuckles 
being turned slightly in¬ 
wards (Fig. i); then slowly 
raise the arms until the ex¬ 
pander, still unstretched, is 
on a line with the chest, 
in the meantime counting 
four (Figs. 2 and 3 ). 

2 . Slowly raise the arms, 
counting four again, until 
they are over the head 
(Fig. 4 ), the expander still 
unstretched, the arms per¬ 
fectly straight, and the 
knuckles turned towards 
each other. 

3 . Pass the arms side¬ 
ways, holding them quite 
stiff and straight, and bring 
the expander, now fully 
extended, behind the body 
until it is on a line with the 
shoulders (Figs. 5 and n), 
takingcare to clear the head 
and back, counting as before. 

4. Drop the arms straight down behind as far as possible, allowing the 
expander to contract and hang loosely, the knuckles slightly turned towards each 
other, and counting four, as in the previous passes (Fig. 6 ). 

Then reverse the movements, counting as before. Care must be taken that a 
perfectly upright position is maintained throughout the whole exercise, the chin 
and waist being kept well drawn in and the heels together. 

This exercise should be continued for about five minutes, which will represent 
twenty complete repetitions of the exercise, from front to back and back to front 
being reckoned as one. 

1 For young children, skipping practised backwards forms a capital exercise com¬ 
bined with pleasure, developing the chest, and giving full play to all the limbs. 



FIC:5 


FtC*:6 
















RECREA T10N 


337 




For a beginner this 
will be found sufficient 
during the first month’s 
practice, as nothing is 
more injurious than to 
carry on any exercise 
until fatigue is experi¬ 
enced. After that period, 
when the muscles have 
become more strength¬ 
ened and the joints more 
supple, the time may be 
increased, but in no case 
sufficiently to induce 
fatigue or a laborious 
habit of breathing. 

When the pupil has 
thoroughly mastered this 
exercise so as to perform 
it easily and without 
effort, she may then ad¬ 
vance to 

Exercise No. 2. 

This is similar to No. 1, 
but two only are counted 
between each pass. 

Exercise No. 3. The move¬ 
ments in this are also similar, 
but the pupil counts only one 
between each pass or eight to 
the whole exercise. 

In all three care must be 
taken that the action is steady, 
uniform, and continuous, and 
not done in jerks or spasmodi¬ 
cally. 

Exercise No. 4. The pupil 
commences as in No. 1, raising 
the expander while counting 
four until it is on a line with 
the chest, then over the head; 
then pass the expander behind, 
lowering the right hand, and 
raising the left until the ex¬ 
pander is in a diagonal line 
across the body (Figs. 7, 8, 10); 
now, keeping the right arm ex¬ 
tended downward, bring the 


z 








































338 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


left one down sharply to the side, the thumb touching the shoulder, and the elbow 
close into the body (Fig. 9). Repeat this action of the left arm twelve times, or 
less if this number is found too fatiguing, and return the expander in front, as in 


No. 1. 



Exercise No. 5 is the same as No. 4, but in this the left arm is extended 
downward and the right arm worked. 

As from habit the right arm is almost invariably the stronger, exercise No. 4 

should be prac¬ 
tised much oft¬ 
en er than No. 
5, to induce as 
far as possible 
an equilibrium 
between the 
two members. 

Exercise No. 
6 is somewhat 
similar to the 
two preceding, 
but instead of 
bringing the ex¬ 
pander diagon¬ 
ally across the 
body, it is 
stretched across 
the shoulders, 
as in No. 1, and 
both arms are 
worked into the 
side and out 
again, making 

the fingers touch the shoulders, and taking care to keep the expander as far as 
possible clear of the back (Figs, n, 12). 

There are other and more complicated exercises with the expander, but those 
I have endeavoured to describe are the most essential, and my space* warns me 
that I must draw these remarks to a close. 

In conclusion, I would add that the exercises I have described, and which I 
can so confidently recommend, should be practised for ten minutes everv mornino- 
before leaving the bedroom. ' 


A NEW BALL GAME AS PLAYED IN JAPAN. 

\ 

There is a Japanese ball game which is very popular in its native land and 
which might well be played in this country. It is known as ‘Ternari.’ The 
* Temari ’ is a ball about two inches in diameter and made generally of cotton 




















VERBA RIUM. 


33 9 


wound round with thread, so that it keeps its roundness and is elastic. The outside 
is often ornamented with different figures made of threads of different colours. 
A number of girls stand in a circle and one of them—say, for example, our friend 
Jessie—takes the ball and throws it perpendicularly on the ground, and when it 
rebounds she strikes it back towards the ground with her open hand. If it rebounds 
again towards her she continues doing just as before. But if it flies away the one 
towards whom the ball flies, or who is nearest to the direction of the flying ball, 
strikes it towards the ground as Jessie has done, and the game continues until one 
of the players misses her stroke or fails to make the ball rebound. She is then 
cast out of the company and the others play again in the same way as before, until 
another girl fails and is cast out. The same process continues until there is only 
one girl left, to whom belongs the honour of victory. 


VERBARIUM. 


An Indoor Game for People of all Ages. 


On wet days or long evenings we have spent many a pleasant hour playing the 
following game. It may be known to many of our readers, but for the benefit of 
those who have not yet played it we will try to make it clear. It is a game suited 
to the young, for whom it is not too learned, and to the old, for whom it is not too 
frivolous; therefore, young and old, seat yourselves round a table with me and 
indulge for an hour in this game of play. Each must provide herself with half a 
sheet of foolscap, folded lengthwise into .hree, and a lead pencil. Now think of a 
word which contains within itself most of the vowels and an m, a d, or a t. Avoid, 
if possible, a repetition of letters. Shall we select portma?iteau ? It will, I think, 
answer our purpose. Out of this word you must make as many others as you can 
produce in the time allowed to you, confining yourselves strictly to the letters of 
which ‘ portmanteau ’ is formed. Three minutes will be given for each set of 
words. We commence with the first letter, each letter in turn being the 
commencement of a new set of words. There must be no proper nouns nor words 
in foreign languages, and perfect silence must be observed. I will be conductor 
with my watch before me. Are you ready ? Then, if you please, start. 


Prate 

- Port - (i) Pear 

Pant Pen 

Patter etc., etc. 

Protea n (4.) 


The three minutes being up, I call ‘ stop.’ The 
one sitting next me begins to call out her words amid 
silence. ‘ Pent.’ All who have it on their papers call 
out ‘ Yes.’ If more than two people have it, all cross 
it out, but score nothing. She passes on to the next 
—‘ Port.’ If only two people have this, they score one 
each, putting the figure against the word. 


If one person alone has a word—for example, ‘ Protean *—she scores two for 
one syllable and one for each extra syllable. The lists of words being called out by 
each player, we proceed to the next set, commencing with 0. I give the word 
‘ start,’ and away over the papers the pencils glide. 







340 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


■O m e n (2) Otter 
-Oar (1) 

■ Ornate (2) etc *> etc - 


When, again, at the end of three minutes, I call 
‘ stop,’ we go through exactly the same form, scoring 
where we can. Many a laugh is heard at the bad 
spelling which often crops up, or at the quaint words 
called out. 


The words commencing with 0 having been gone through, I order the start 
again for words beginning with r, and so on through all the letters, except in the 
case of the second t and second a , which are repetitions, and therefore omitted. 

Having completed the word, we reckon up our numbers, and the one who has 
the highest is the winner of the game. 

This game played in German, in French, in Italian, or in Latin, is equally 
interesting. 















ETIQUETTE, 














































































































CHAPTER VIII.—ETIQUETTE. 



THE FOUNDATION OF ALL GOOD BREEDING. 

ANUALS pretending to supply all the recognised rules of 
etiquette may be obtained for a few pence; and direc¬ 
tions quite as numerous have been presented to all who 
feel themselves deficient in their knowledge of sundry 
little trifling matters, to which persons born under different 
circumstances are familiar from their childhood. Why, 
therefore, should I add one more to swell the list, on a 
subject so well-nigh worn out, and profitable only—in 
the minutiae with which such directions generally deal— 
to comparatively a small proportion of the community. 
Bear with me, my kind readers, if my subject appear to 
be one so trite and dull, because I propose to view it 
in a somewhat different aspect from that in which it is 
usually presented. 

First, I wish to bring before your notice that we must 
be governed by certain general rules in every position and circumstance of life. 
Secondly, to distinguish those that are obligatory on all ranks of society, and those 
that belong only to a single class. Thirdly, that, to ensure the full exercise of all 
our theories on the subject of good manners, we must cultivate tact. Fourthly, that 
no books of etiquette need to be studied by the community at large when the 
foundation of all good breeding is thoroughly understood. Lastly, I will supply a 
few illustrations to explain more fully the theory I have endeavoured to establish. 

Throughout the whole of Creation certain rules must govern every separate 
department of the vast extent of God’s Universe. The better versed you are with 
science, and with Nature, the more clear this will become to your apprehension. 
The laws of gravitation, of centrifugal force, those connected with heat and cold, 
expansion and combustion; the vivifying power of the sun’s rays, the influences of 
magnetism, electricity, and other physical forces, as well as the more mysterious 
laws of life—all these do their appointed work. There is, in consequence, no 
confusion, no accidental upset of these laws of Nature ; and it is well for us that all 
should be worked by rule—that ‘ the sun knoweth his going down,’ and that ‘ for 
all things there is a time and place.’ 

And in a less perfect and regular way human affairs must be carried on by the 
observance of certain rules of more or less significance. For example, those of the 
Houses of Parliament, those of our public institutions, our hospitals—and many of 
you, my readers, will endorse my assertion as regards the ordering of a nursery, a 
school, a private household, and a chamber of sickness ; and those also that are of 
moment to every single individual—pertaining to the preservation of health and 

















344 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


of life. I need not to make a further enumeration. We cannot repudiate the 
obligation of being guided and governed by rules, from the highest circles of the 
aristocracy to the unpolished ranks of uneducated multitudes, who fill our jails and 
unions. 

Without these rules the world would be what is characteristically called a ‘ bear¬ 
garden.’ 

It now remains to us, in the second place, to consider the nature of those rules, 
known by the name of ‘ etiquette,’ which govern ‘ polite society,’ and to decide 
which of them apply to educated people in general, leaving those that are non- 
essential, save to a distinct class (who are already as well acquainted with them all 
as I could be, in my present position of instructor). Because I must tell you, at the 
outset, that many little requirements of the higher ranks of society do not apply to 
the middle class, however well educated and however refined in feeling and pleasing 
in manner. Some of these little rules, on which certain writers appear to lay so 
much stress, merely, it would seem, to make it appear that they themselves belonged 
to a class with whose habits they profess to be so conversant— some of these rules 
consist of little more, in point of fact, than a species of masonic signs, as it were, by 
which strangers may respectively recognise their brotherhood, each to each, in the 
same circle of fashionable society, sharing the same hereditary feelings, ideas, and 
interests. 

Upon such trifling rules of so-called ‘good breeding’ as these I am not about 
to descant. I wish to draw a line of demarcation between them, as belonging only 
to a particular class, and those which should be regarded by all ranks in society, 
simply, yet obviously, because founded on the great Law of Kindness, and a keen 
sense of fitness and propriety. 

No books need to be read by those who have this key to the mysteries of ‘ good 
breeding.’ They have only to use their own common sense, and ask themselves, in 
every little act which has to be performed, How shall I best spare the feelings of 
those around me? How shall 1 be able to gratify them, even though at my own 
expense of time or trouble ? Remember that one golden rule of your life should 
be to regard nothing as a trifle ; and still further, to do nothing that is not worth 
your best efforts to perform well; and to begin early to deny yourself and your own 
convenience in favour of others, even in the smallest matters, that such conduct 
may grow with your growth, as the habit of your lives. 

‘ Evil is wrought 
By want of thought, 

As well as by want of heart! * 

And it is, doubtless, a want of a little reflection that makes most people guilty 
of ill-breeding, and even of rudeness and cruelty to the feelings of others. 

I have now come to the third section of my subject. You have often heard 
people say that some one has ‘ shown a want of tact.’ Now, tact signifies a bright 
quickness of perception in applying the rules of good breeding to the circumstances of 
the moment, either actively or passively, just as the necessities of the case may 
demand—good judgment, prudence, and kindliness being all combined with presence 
of mind. How many a family quarrel might have been avoided if some vexed 
question had not been thoughtlessly mooted, or a subject brought on the tapis which 
would naturally lead to it! How much pain spared to the feelings of others if this 




THE FOUNDATION OF ALL GOOD BREEDING. 


345 


same tact had closed the lips before some unfortunate allusion had been made, 
waking up sorrowful memories that, perhaps, were lying dormant for a while, leaving 
the tired spirit at rest! A moment’s reflection would prevent your alluding to 
deformity of any kind, or to personal infirmities, before first assuring yourself that 
no case of the kind was present in the assemblage of friends. It would also make 
you hesitate and hold your tongue before you named the storminess of the weather, 
or of wrecks at sea, when some one had a friend upon the ocean; or to allude to 
some terrible epidemic in a locality where your listener had a friend or relative 
exposed to it. 

I was once crossing the Atlantic in the winter season, dark and stormy, and the 
good ship was labouring somewhat slowly on her way. And some at home were 
very anxious on account of her non-arrival within the usual time occupied by the 
passage. An old and attached servant at home was naturally made a confidante in 
this time of exceptional anxiety; but instead of showing a little tact, when expected 
to make some cheering response, she replied to her nervous and delicate mistress, 

‘ What I am afraid of is, that the ship has gone down ! ’ 

Tact is, as it were, the handmaid of good breeding; and yet how many are 
deficient in it who are both kindly and well acquainted with every rule of etiquette 
that obtains in the highest ranks of society. The ‘ want of thought,’ of which the 
poet Hood speaks, is the ruin of their manners, and frustrates their most amiable 
intentions. 

From what I have already said you will draw this simple conclusion, that the 
foundation of all good breeding is kindness, and to carry out its instincts into the 
actions and the converse of our daily life we must cultivate tact, using our brains 
and powers of reasoning and reflection for the comfort of others, at whatever cost 
self-abnegation and presence of mind, by which alone our good intentions can be 
made of any service. 

From a general view of the subject I will now proceed to particularise a little. 
It is not my intention to give a long and exhaustive list of all the rules that should 
guide our words and ways : quite enough, and even too much, has already been 
written about them. It is not necessary that you should have a master to teach 
you how to make up your household accounts week after week, if only that master 
have once made you acquainted with the rules of arithmetic, which will serve as 
your sufficient guide, enabling you on all future occasions to make the necessary 
calculations for yourself. And thus, having provided you with the grand laws by 
which your manners should be regulated, you may become as good a judge of how 
you should conduct yourself as any author of a book on etiquette could be 
herself. 

But a few illustrations of what I mean may assist you in comprehending all that 
I have endeavoured to explain. For instance, a man should pass a woman on the 
outside of a walk, leaving her the inside or wall. Why ? If you employ your 
common sense for a moment, the reason for such a rule of etiquette must be 
apparent. He is her natural protector, and in case of a carriage or cattle passing in 
the road, and possibly encroaching on the walk, he stands between her and harm ; 
he gives her the most sheltered place from splashings of mud, and likewise under 
the wall from the wind and rain. Again. A lady (in England) has the right of 
bowing first, when meeting a gentleman. Reflect, and you will perceive the reason 
for such a rule. No man can thus intrude on her society, nor even her acquaintance, 




346 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


should she prefer to look another way and ignore his presence, or give such a formal 
recognition as to keep him at a distance. Again. It is essentially ill-bred to make 
a tatooing with the feet or by any other means; to swing a stick or parasol; or 
fidget and fiddle with any article. Why ? Because a continual tapping grates on the 
nerves of others and worries them. Swinging a stick alarms others, lest they should 
receive an accidental blow; and fiddling with any article endangers its being dropped 
and broken. Drawing with a knife, fork, or spoon on the table-cloth, crumbling the 
bread laid for you, or playing with the salt, are all vulgar tricks. Why ? Because 
you annoy the lady of the house by making the table-cloth appear a soiled one, and 
risk the cutting as well as scratching and fraying of the linen threads of the cloth ; 
you also make an unsightly mess on the table, and waste the precious bread by your 
crumbling it; and you make your friends fidgety by fiddling with anything on the 
table, placed there for use and not for idle play. Why should a gentleman always 
allow a lady to precede him ? Simply because he cannot see what has happened to 
her or how she may need his services, if he walk on in front, and leave her to follow 
as best she may. Again. Why should you remove your knife and fork from your 
plate when the servant takes it away for a second helping ? Because you endanger 
your neighbour, over whose shoulder the knife and fork must pass, being cut by 
their fall—a very likely accident—and, moreover, the person who helps you is incon¬ 
venienced by their presence, and has to lay the meat across them or at the edge of 
the plate. Why should you always make a choice when asked to what part of any 
dish you are to be helped ? Because if you say 1 you have no preference ’ you cause 
inconvenience to the helper, and perplex him, instead of saving him as much 
trouble as possible. 

Also, when helping your neighbour to butter, why is it vulgar to scrape it off the 
butter knife upon the edge of the plate? Simply because when it is all used the 
edge of the plate, by which it must be held, is greased and might soil the thumb of 
the person who hands it for a help of anything. 

Why should you speak low (excepting to a deaf person), and restrain your cough 
or sneeze, and use your handkerchief, if you have a cold, as gently and unobtrusively 
as possible ? Because loud talking is not only coarse and unsuitable, but it gives 
a headache to many, and it and a loud cough startle the hearer and prevent other 
people from speaking or hearing; besides which the infirmities of our poor human 
nature should be intruded as little as possible on our neighbours; and this not only 
our own personal delicacy should teach us, but a kindly desire to spare others any 
feelings of disgust and annoyance should forbid an obtrusive exhibition of them. 
Clearing the throat and expectoration should be exclusively confined to the privacy 
of your own room, as should all loud use of the handkerchief. The same considera¬ 
tion for the feelings of others should prevent your insisting on a friend’s playing, 
taking a second help of any viands or drink, or foregoing their own choice in any 
matter whatsoever. Delicacy should teach you how soon to cease pressing your 
own wishes and invitations upon them, and this very especially in regard to playing 
or singing when there is an evident effort on their part to obtain a reprieve ; and on 
the part of the performer it is equally bad taste to refuse persistently when the 
hostess begs the favour of a little music at your hands. One of the most common 
acts of ill-breeding is to talk to a near friend when some one is by request playing 
the pianoforte or singing. Perhaps it may not be an ill-selected example of how 
you should act under another description of circumstances. Suppose you are to 



THE FOUNDATION OF ALL GOOD BREEDLNG. 


347 


drive with some friend, or to leave some house simultaneously, and your friend 
requests you to precede her. In such a case, having first held modestly back, at 
once comply with her desire. Why ? Because you thus acknowledge her right of 
choice in the matter, and give up your own, and thus also waste of time and 
annoyance to her is spared. 

But further illustrations, I imagine, must be unnecessary for the elucidation of 
my meaning. 

‘ A word to the wise is sufficient/ The key to all general and thorough good 
breeding suitable to all—from the noble at court to the poor man in his cottage- 
home—is now placed in your hands. Reflect, and judge for yourselves, on every 
occasion of perplexity. How may I best spare my neighbours the smallest incon¬ 
venience or pain ? How may I best gratify all around me, by all my works, and 
words, and ways ? Those who adopt such rules as these possess in themselves the 
very essence of good-breeding. 

Rising above the more trifling matters of our daily conduct in reference to our 
intercourse with others—for rules of ‘ etiquette ’ can have nothing to do with our¬ 
selves alone, in the privacy of our own chambers—you should always bear in 
memory that you are bound by still higher obligations than those of mere duty to 
your neighbours here on earth ; obligations to Him who is your example as well as 
your law-giver. Thus ‘ Whatsoever ye do, in word or in deed, do all in the name of 
the Lord Jesus/—that is, remembering that you are honoured by bearing His name 
as ‘ Christians/ and that, as such, a weighty obligation rests upon you. The charm 
of sweet, gentle, engaging manner surpasses that of mere personal beauty, especially 
when combined with a soft low voice and a delicate touch, which would never 
break nor drop articles, nor make a clatter about the room, nor tread heavily, and 
bang doors,—all matters of importance in a household, and essential in a sick-room. 

Be certain of this also, that tricks of any description are to be avoided, such as 
biting the nails, touching the hair, turning up the corners of book-leaves, and so 
forth. Why so I need scarcely tell you,—because they are not only worrying to 
others, but they are also mischievous and dirty habits. We should not make light 
of even comparatively small obligations, because we find that, from acts of the 
greatest kindness and self-denial, down to the least, they are divinely ordered. ‘ Be 
courteous/ not rough and short in manner, is a plain command, so likewise 
* gentleness ’ and ‘ brotherly kindness ’ are classed together as amongst the ‘ fruits of 
the Spirit/ and ‘whatsoever things are lovely ’ with those that are ‘just’ and ‘ true/ 
Cultivate these, and prove all you say and do by the tests I have suggested. You 
cannot then be coarse and ill-bred, nor make any grave mistakes in your manners. 
Cultivate a humble dignity of demeanour. Humble, inasmuch as you should never 
forget the exact position in which the hand of God has placed you in this world 
(supposing it be not one of any distinction), nor the duty of ‘ rendering to all their 
dues—honour to whom honour/ nor that, personally, whatever your social position 
may be, you are at best but a faulty creature. But I did not speak of humility 
alone, I combined dignity with it,—one of the essential characteristics also of a 
thoroughly well-bred person. This dignity of manner and general bearing will 
repel all impertinent familiarity in others, and secure you from many evils. It will 
reflect, in the sight of others, that proper high-mindedness which has no element of 
pride and annoyance about it, but which will prevent your stooping to any mean, 
ungenerous, and cowardly act, or to light and frivolous conduct. 



348 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


With this last item of counsel on the subject of your general bearing and 
manners amongst your associates, I will conclude, in the words of divine admonition 
in reference, amongst others, to ‘ whatsoever things are lovely *—■ Think on these 
things.’ 


ETIQUETTE FOR LADIES AND GIRLS . 1 

If ‘ manners make the man ’ they even more decidedly make the woman, and 
few gifts ensure greater happiness and affection to their possessor than a good 
manner. 

Now, while all good manners are the off-shoot of a good heart, and while kindly 
courteousness and thought for others are the very kernel of the matter, still there 
are certain laws laid down which it is necessary to thoroughly understand, and I 
purpose to set those roughly before my readers. For etiquette and good breeding 
are not identical, though they are twin sisters; for example, it is possible for a 
foreigner to be perfectly well-bred and yet show an ignorance of some details of 
etiquette. 

All the niceties of personal behaviour in regard to eating, drinking, and cleanly 
habits are learnt imperceptibly by children from their parents and guardians; hence 
it is most necessary that mothers who are unable to have their children constantly 
with them should ensure innate refinement in the teachers and attendants who 
surround them. 

It is when a girl is old enough to ‘ come out/ as the phrase is, and to take 
a recognised position in the social world, that a knowledge of the code that rules 
good society becomes necessary. For there is but one recognised code in really 
good society, although some old-fashioned modes may prevail in country places, 
and with old-fashioned people. ‘ Coming out ’ means introduction to society, either 
at a party at home or by being presented at Her Majesty’s Drawing-room, or by 
merely accepting the invitations of friends. When a young lady is ‘ out/ her 
name appears on her mother’s visiting card, immediately below her mother’s name; 

or with those of her sisters’, as one of the Misses-. An unmarried lady, unless 

she has arrived at a certain age, does not have a card of her own, nor does she 
make her calls on her own account, as she should certainly not have acquaintances 
who are unknown to her parents. 

Visiting-cards should be printed on thin unglazed cards, in as plain letterings as 
possible in text hand, with no flourishes or any remarkable style of printing, the 

1 The importance of attention to rules of etiquette will be admitted even by those 
whose pressing duties or higher avocations hinder from rigid observance of them. For 
example, no one would expect the ceremonies of formal visiting from hospital nurses, 
though some of these are of high and noble families. They are better employed. No 
one is surprised at their disregard of etiquette, any more than at their not wearing 
gloves, which they never do. Such exceptions are very different from those made 
without excuse of duty. We have known good people who, from ignorance or neglect of 
rules and usages of social life, cause religion itself to be evil spoken of. They think such 
things to be ‘ conformity to the world.’ But the true principle is to be in the world, yet 
not of the world. The Christian precept, ‘ Be courteous/ covers all the innocent usages 
of society in our time, as it did in the days when Divine illustrations were drawn from 
the usages of the Jews in their feasts and marriages and other social institutions.—E d. 






ETIQUETTE. 


349 


gentlemen’s about half the depth of the ladies’, but in cases where there is no 
mother the daughters have their father’s name printed on cards of the usual ladies’ 
size, with their own beneath. Some ladies put their husband’s name on their cards 

as well as their daughters, Mr. and Mrs. S-in one line. This is not a solecism, 

but is somewhat old-fashioned. 

The plan of card-leaving is regulated by very plainly defined laws of etiquette. 
Cards were originally introduced so that people on whom the calls were made might 
be aware of the fact, even should the servant be forgetful, and when a personal call 
is made they are never sent in, excepting in cases of business visits where there is 
no acquaintance, as, for example, in calling for the character of a servant. 

If an acquaintance is not at home when she calls, a lady leaves her own card 
with the names of her daughters upon it, and two of her husband’s cards, one for 
the master and one for the mistress, with occasionally an additional one for the 
sons. If the mistress is at home, on leaving she deposits two of her husband’s cards 
on the hall-table. She must neither give them to the servant nor to the hostess. As 
a rule, the wives do the card-leaving for married men, who rarely call in person. 

The right-hand corner of a lady’s card turned down means that she intends the 
call to be on the young ladies as well as their mother. Cards should bear the 
prefix of their owner—Mrs., Miss, Lady (if a knight or baronet’s wife), Countess, or 
any other title. The only one never used on a card is ‘ Honourable.’ The 
Christian name without a prefix is simply a barbarism unheard of in good society— 
such as ‘ Jane Brown,’ though young gentlemen at college and elsewhere put the 
name without ‘ Mr.’ 

With card-leaving comes the question of calling. Calling hours are from three 
to six. First calls should be returned within the week. Calls should be made also 
within the week after every entertainment, whether it be a dinner, or an ‘ At Home,’ 
held either in the evening or afternoon, always assuming that the ‘ At Home ’ is a 
party for which invitations have been issued. Many people in London and large 
towns, though not, perhaps, the ultra fashionable people of London, have certain 
days in the week on which they receive their friends, and as the friends who put in 
an appearance are in fact paying a call, a subsequent call in consequence of being 
present at such an ‘ At Home ’ is, therefore, unnecessary. After a dinner-party it 
is best to go in if the lady is at home, leaving cards, if preferred, after other enter¬ 
tainments. Most people on coming to town call on all their friends by merely 
leaving cards; it is etiquette for those who come to town to take the initiative, for, 
of course, it would be almost impossible for their acquaintance to ascertain when 
they came. If when a call is made simply cards are left at the door, and there is 
no inquiry as to whether the mistress is at home, the same plan should be adopted 
in returning the call. Servants should be trained to remember the distinction. It 
is a vulgarity under any circumstances whatever to send visiting cards by post. If 
after an entertainment the distance is too great for a call, it would be best, if you 
are very punctilious, to write a polite note ; but to send cards by post to save the 
trouble of calling is a breach of good manners. 

On leaving a neighbourhood, and sometimes at the end of the season, or going 
abroad, cards are left with P.P.C., viz pour prendre conge, or pour dire adieu written 
upon them. If young ladies are away from home, and have been accepting 
hospitalities in the way of dinners and other parties, their names should be written 
in pencil on the card of their chaperone. 




35o 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


In the country old residents call on new-comers, but in London and in towns 
generally this plan does not hold good, and an introduction is necessary before a 
call is made. When a call has been made the receivers can continue the acquaint¬ 
ance or not as they please, but first calls are generally followed by invitations from 
those who make them. Cards left in the case of illness should have the words ‘ to 
inquire * in pencil on the top. To very young ladies a morning call is often an 
ordeal they would fain avoid; but this should not be encouraged. If admitted, 
they, with their mother, would be announced by the servant, and should take a part 
in the conversation without in any way monopolising it. Supposing other callers 
were present, they can, if they please, enter into conversation with them; their sa 
doing does not require an introduction nor necessitate an acquaintance. A quarter 
of an hour is enough for a ceremonious call. Neither when other visitors come or 
go do those present rise : they can, if they please, bend slightly, but it is not 
necessary. 

If the call is made about five o’clock, tea is generally served, and, as a rule,, 
poured out by the lady of the house without ceremony. 

When calls are received at home more devolves upon the young ladies of the 
house; then they are expected to help their mothers in the conversation and in 
dispensing tea, etc. They can, if they please, receive lady visitors in their mother’s 
absence, but it depends on her approval whether gentlemen are admitted, and this 
is not often allowed if there is but one daughter. 

A young lady visiting at a house must use her discretion with regard to remaining 
in the room when visitors call. It depends whether she thinks her hostess would 
wish her to do so, and unless she happens to be herself acquainted with the people 
who come, it would be better after a short interval to retire. If visitors call upon 
her who are unknown to the hostess, as a young lady it would be right for her to 
introduce them, her chaperone taking the place of her mother for the time being. 

A young girl with all the freshness of her youth and the sweet dignity of woman¬ 
hood has a sure passport into society which secures her a warmth of welcome ; it 
depends on herself whether this grows or is early nipped in the bud. 

Fastness and prim sedateness are equally to be avoided ; a calm, frank, unem¬ 
barrassed manner, a sympathetic interest in and thought for others, a habit of say¬ 
ing the right thing in the right place, the power of being a good listener, and of 
letting the conversation take any turn most agreeable to the speaker—these are 
some of the component parts of good and pleasing manners. The fault of the age 
rather runs towards young people assuming too much, being too confident and self- 
assertive and too thoughtless with regard to their elders—alL essentially bad 
manners. 

People who have at all a large acquaintance should keep a visiting book with 
the names and addresses of those with whom they are on visiting terms, and a correct 
alphabetical list of the several members of their family who, in case of an entertain¬ 
ment being given, would be invited. Without this a hostess is apt to forget the 
number of sons and daughters. A supplementary list in a small note-book kept in 
or with the card-case saves a great deal of trouble when visits are paid. 

Twice a year, as a broad rule, is a sufficient number of times to call on acquaint¬ 
ances, unless they have given entertainments which necessitate card-leaving. 

On hearing of the death of an acquaintance, cards should be at once left at the 
house, and when the relatives feel able to see their friends again they send by hand 



ETIQUETTE. 351 

or post either specially printed cards or their own, ‘ with thanks for kind inquiries/ 
which are acknowledged by a call. 

Ladies do not leave cards on gentlemen, unless they have been entertained. 
After a dinner given to ladies by a bachelor, a wife would leave her card with her 
husband’s. Common-sense should be exercised in all these matters. The wife of a 
naval officer would hardly leave her husband’s cards on mutual acquaintances when 
he was at sea. 

Many young girls conceive a dislike for society simply because they experience 
a mauvciis honte , brought about by an ignorance how to act under the various 
circumstances which arise in their intercourse with other people. They are too 
shy, too ashamed of their own ignorance, to ask for information, and indeed often 
do not realise exactly what it is they want to know. Now I would counsel them to 
have no false shame in the matter; all knowledge does not come by intuition, and 
we must be learning up to the last day of our lives. 

Knowledge brings confidence, and helps to banish shyness and self-conscious¬ 
ness. They would do well to think as little of themselves as they can, of how they 
look, and what others think of them. It should be the object of their elders by 
their own perfect self-possession to set them as much as possible at their ease. The 
higher the social scale the more courtesy and the more ease of manner prevail. 

One of the difficulties which young people experience is in knowing when to 
bow. In England a lady by right takes the initiative, and bows first; abroad this 
is reversed, and English women should there follow the custom which prevails. 

A young lady would do right to bow to a gentleman by whom she had been 
taken in to dinner, or had been introduced to in any other way, but she would not 
bow if she had merely talked to him when casually meeting him with friends, or at 
a friend’s house. She would naturally not go out of her way to bow, even when by 
etiquette she was entitled so to do, but it would be gauche to avoid doing so when 
the opportunity naturally occurred. 

A true lady should, more than all other things, take the greatest care not to- 
wound the feelings of anybody. We meet in society for our mutual pleasure, but 
want of thought and good feeling often cause mortification and pain to others. 
Men are more sensitive about trifles than women imagine, though a certain free- 
and-easy-ness of manner has crept in of late between the sexes, which occasionally 
leads to a lack of deference that it would perhaps be stilted to call a want of 
respect. A woman has in her own hands the power of making men treat her 
with friendly kindness and simple courtesy, which honours them in giving and she 
in receiving. If a young lady walking with her father or brother meet a gentleman 
known to them whom they recognise, in returning their salutation he would raise 
his hat to her without knowing her, which she would acknowledge by the slightest 
possible motion of the head; but this would not constitute an acquaintance. 
Supposing she bowed to a gentleman of her acquaintance who was accompanied by 
a friend, he would raise his hat as well as her acquaintance. As a rule men do not 
take off their hats to each other, but to ladies only. Women bowing to each other 
mostly do so simultaneously, but according to the strict etiquette a married lady or 
the one of the higher rank bows first. It is not necessary to rise when an intro¬ 
duction is made, unless it be to a lady of much higher social rank, and it is more 
courteous when introduced to an older lady for the younger one to half-rise. 

A gentleman is introduced to a lady, a young lady to an old one, one of 



352 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


inferior rank to one of higher and not vice versd, and it is not usual to shake hands 
on an introduction, but in saying good-bye, after an introduction, it would be 
correct. 

The question whether to introduce or not is a fruitful source of difficulty in 
social life. Among quite the upper ten thousand it is rarely necessary to do so, as 
they are mostly acquainted. In general society it requires tact and knowledge of 
the world to know when it is advisable to make people acquainted. In the small 
circles in the country it can be rarely done to advantage; but in London, if it is 
calculated to lead to the personal enjoyment of friends and guests at any social 
gathering, it is well-bred to do so, and it is a matter of choice whether such 
introductions lead to any real acquaintance. It is best where practicable to 
consult the wishes of those concerned before introducing them. 

Luncheon parties are perhaps the most informal mode of entertainment. The 
time is from one to two. The guests generally keep on their bonnets and lay their 
cloaks aside in the drawing-room. They proceed to the dining-room without any 
ceremony, and not in twos and twos, as for dinner. In large establishments the 
servants wait throughout; but it is quite usual for them to leave after the vegetables 
are handed round, for the chief viands, sweets, cake, and fruit, if any, are on the 
table. Should the people present not know each other, they can enter into general 
conversation without introductions. 

Five o’clock tea parties are of many kinds. If only a few friends are expected, 
it is served on a small tea-table placed in front of the hostess, the young ladies or 
the gentlemen present dispensing the cups, bread and butter, and cake. Every¬ 
body joins in the general conversation, and the entertainment is thoroughly without 
gene. A friendly note would be the most ordinary style of invitation, and its 
purport would be the best guide as to answering it. But, as a rule, it would require 
an answer only in case of not being able to accept it. If the party be more 
numerous, tea would be dispensed on a larger table in the comer of the room, the 
urn being set with plenty of cups and saucers, cakes, and bread and butter on a 
cloth embroidered round, or trimmed with lace. Many fantastic styles of adorning 
such cloths prevail, and change from time to time. Plates and d’oyleys are out 
of date. 

For an afternoon party the invitations are sent out on the ordinary visiting card, 
or on cards specially printed thus :— 

Mr. and Mrs. Brown. 

Mrs. Smith. 

At Home. 

Tuesday Afternoon, 4 to 7. 

Laurel Hall. Music. 

The ‘ music ’ can, of course, be dispensed with. ‘ R.S.V.P.’ must be added if an 
answer is requested, otherwise the guests do not reply, unless they are unable to 
come. Tea, coffee, and light refreshments are served in the dining-room. 

The hostess receives her guests at the door of the drawing-room, into which they 
pass at once, taking vacant seats if there are any, and talking to their friends, the 
hostess occasionally introducing a gentleman to take a lady down for refreshments, 
or two people seated together, in order to secure a little pleasant conversation. 
But all appearance of fussiness must be avoided by the hostess, and her daughters 
can materially assist her. Musical parties given in the afternoon may be only 




ETIQUETTE . 


353 


amateur, or with first-rate professional artists, in which case programmes are 
circulated among the guests, who are expected not to indulge in conversation while 
singing is going on. 

Garden parties held in the country and in the suburbs of London are of many 
kinds. At present they take most generally the form of lawn tennis parties, and the 
guests are often udiered at once into the gardens. The refreshments, which consist 
of tea, coffee, ices, fruit, cakes, biscuits, and occasionally game sandwiches, are laid 
either in a tent or in the dining-room. The invitations are the same as for ordinary 
afternoon parties, though they often have ‘ weather permitting ’ in addition. More 
ambitious garden parties are extended to io, n, or 12 o’clock, a substantial cold 
repast being served about 7 o’clock, and a variety of entertainments arranged to 
amuse the guests, such as Tyrolese minstrels, performing dogs, or anything that 
happens to be the fashion of the moment. There should be plenty of seats and 
garden chairs dispersed about, and sevem 1 different places indoors and out where 
refreshments are served. Ladies generally leave some light wraps in a room set 
apart for them. At the least ceremonious of afternoon parties gentlemen when 
they make a call take their hats into the drawing-room, but leave them in the hall 
in the case of a garden party or if invited to an afternoon party. 

Whether to an afternoon or to any other kind of party, it is rude and bad- 
mannered to take friends uninvited, unless, as in the case of some country 

invitations, the wording of the invitation is ‘ Mrs.- andparty? Much judgment 

should be exercised at all times in asking for invitations for friends. As a rule, 
people have a large circle of their own, which they do not desire to extend, and in 
asking for such invitations it should be always made clear that the hostess will not 
be affronting the asker by refusing. Mothers with large families should not take 

more than two daughters if the invitation is for ‘ The Misses-’ and some 

hostesses ask but one. 

Evening parties are also of various kinds, but the invitations take the same form 
as for the afternoon, except where the hostess prefers to send friendly notes. 
They need not be answered unless ‘ R.S.V.P.’ is upon them, and then as quickly as 
possible. 

^ An ‘ at-home ’ may mean merely conversation, when the hours are from 8 to 9. 
Light refreshments are served downstairs, and sometimes a supper, sometimes a 
concert is given. Then it behoves a guest to be punctual. 

It is not necessary to say good-night to the hostess before leaving, as it tends 
sometimes to break up the party. 

For dinner parties it behoves the guests to be punctual, that is, to come to the 
hour or half-hour, whether the invitation be for the quarter to or for the time 
exactly. The gentlemen are introduced to the ladies they take down, and they 
proceed to the dining-room, the host with the lady of highest rank going first, the 
hostess last with the gentleman of highest rank. The guests are seated according 
to a pre-arranged plan, the ladies removing their gloves as soon as they are 
seated; gentlemen do not wear them at dinner parties. It is usual, whether 
introduced or not, to talk to people seated on either side. Dinner parties are now 
universally served d la Russe, so that, being well taken care of in the matter of 
food, which is in the hand of the servants, the host does not press his guests to 
partake of anything. 


2 A 



354 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


HOW TO ADDRESS PEOPLE OF TITLE. 

By Ardern Holt. 

An ignorance of certain matters which well-bred people are supposed to know 
intuitively is, to say the least of it, embarrassing. But I daresay it will happen to a 
great many of the readers of The Girls Own Indoor Book to be puzzled with regard 
to the etiquette relating to those happy individuals who have handles to their names. 

We all dearly love a lord, they say, in England; but unless born within the 
charmed circle where lords are not rarities, we may show ignorance as to their real 
rank and the form in which they should be addressed. 

An English lord, then, may either be the younger son of a duke, a marquis or 
his son, an earl or his son, a viscount or a baron, besides the spiritual peers, 
bishops or archbishops. 

A tradesman would address a marquis or marchioness as, ‘ The Most Honour¬ 
able the Marquis or Marchioness of-; ’ an earl or countess as, ‘ The Right 

Honourable the Earl or Countess of-/ A viscount and his wife, a baron and 

his wife, are also addressed as ‘ right honourable,’ a prefix which applies as well ta 
a member of Her Majesty’s Privy Council. But a lady or gentleman writing 
similar addresses, in lieu of ‘ the most honourable ’ and ‘ right honourable,’ simply- 
put ‘ The ’ in a line by itself above the words, Marquis, Marchioness, Earl, Countess, 
Viscount and Viscountess, Baron, or Lady—as wife of a baron. It is incorrect to 
write ‘ The ’ before Lady A. or B., wives of baronets or knights ; they are addressed 
simply as Lady A. or B. So you see it is very important to put ‘ The ’ before the 
title of the wife of a baron, because it denotes her higher rank. 

In speaking to these several people of exalted rank, a tradesman would say, 

‘ My lord’ and ‘My lady,’ just where they would say ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’ to an 
ordinary individual, and also after the possessive pronoun. Instead of saying, 

‘ I will alter your hat,’ they would say, ‘ I will alter your lordship’s hat,’ or obey, not 
‘your,’ but ‘your ladyship’s commands.’ As a general rule, a lady or gentleman 
does not say, ‘ My lord,’ or ‘ My lady,’ in addressing them in ordinary conversation, 
and only perhaps at a public meeting, or some occasion of ceremony, but to do so 
frequently would argue utter ignorance of good society. 

We have now discussed the proper direction for the envelopes, but we will 
suppose you have to write a letter. If it is a formal one in the third person, it 
would be correct to write, ‘ Miss Smith presents her compliments to the Earl or 
Countess,’ or ‘ has much pleasure in accepting Viscount or Viscountess Paul’s kind 
invitation.’ If written in the first person, it would be correct to write, ‘ Dear Lord 
Mountcastle,’ or ‘ Dear Lady Mounteagle,’ whether she were a countess or of any 
intermediate rank down to a knight’s wife, for a baronet or knight’s wife would be 
equally addressed by inferiors as ‘ My lady,’ though their husbands are only ‘ Sir/ 
and you would write to them ‘Dear Sir John’ if you were intimate; ‘Dear 
Sir John Jones’ more formally. In addressing an envelope to a baronet it would 
be correct to write, ‘ Sir John Jones, Bart.,’ to a knight, ‘ Sir James Smith; ’ you may 
add ‘knight’ if a simple knight, but that is optional; ‘ K.C.B.’ if a Knight of the 
Bath, ‘ K.C.M.G.’ a Knight of St. Michael and St. George, and so on. 

But we have by no means met all the difficulties yet. Supposing you are 






ETIQUETTE . 


355 


sufficiently intimate with a countess to call her by her Christian name, you would 
not write, ‘ Dear Lady London,’ but ‘ Dear Lady Maud,’ and her signature would 
be ‘ Maud London.’ 

To the sons and daughters of the several grades of the nobility it is difficult to 
assign their proper rank. 

The sons of dukes and marquises are lords, and the younger sons have their 
Christian names after the title and before the family name; for example, Lord 
Edward Cavendish, younger son of the Duke of Devonshire, his eldest son being a 
marquis, the eldest son of a marquis being often a viscount. 

A duke’s, earl’s, or marquis’s daughter is ‘ Lady ’; not, * Lady Cavendish,’ we 
will say, or ‘ Lady Brighton,’ which would make her the wife of a man of rank, but 
‘ Lady Anne Cavendish,’ or whatever her Christian name might be. A baronet or 
knight’s wife cannot put her Christian name between her title and her name; if she 
wishes it to be mentioned at all it must come first—‘ Julia, Lady Brighton,’ for 
example. If the daughter of these above-mentioned noblemen marries a commoner, 
she exchanges her family name for her husband’s, and would still retain her title, as 
Lady Anne Robinson. But should the widow of a person of title wish to retain the 
title derived from her late husband, she must keep his name also. The widow of 
Sir Samuel Jenkins, married to Mr. Cornwallis, may remain Lady Jenkins or 
become Mrs. Cornwallis, but she cannot be Lady Cornwallis, he being only ‘ Mr.’ 

Although the daughters of an earl are called Lady, the younger sons are not 
lords, but simply have the prefix of ‘ honourable ’ before their names. This prefix 
of ‘ honourable ’ is never put on a visiting card, nor in addressing people thus 
favoured do you mention it. You will not, in inviting, request the pleasure of 
‘the Hon. Mr. Bell,’ but on the envelope you would address him as such. 

Sons and daughters of barons and viscounts are also honourables. Should any 
of these said honourables rise to eminence in the Church or army, you will have to 
remember that the military rank precedes the prefix, as it does any title—‘ General 
Lord Bruce,’ ‘ Colonel the Hon. Arthur Sinclair,’ and so on. But in the Church it 
is just the reverse; it is ‘ the Hon. and Rev. William Cannon,’ and so on. 

But I have told you nothing about dukes and duchesses. They are addressed 

either as ‘ the Most Noble the Duke or Duchess of-,’ or ‘ Her or His Grace the 

Duchess or Duke of-’ by tradesmen; but a lady or gentleman would only 

direct, ‘ To the Duke or the Duchess of-,’ and inside the letter would present 

their compliments to the duke or duchess, if they wrote in the third person, or 
would begin, ‘ Dear madam,’ ‘ Dear Duchess of Clewer,’ formally, or ‘ Dear 
Duchess ’ only, if on friendly terms. In general society among their friends they 
are called merely ‘ duke ’ or ‘ duchess,’ and more formally, ‘ Duke or Duchess of 
Clewer.’ ‘ Your Grace,’ would only be said by tradespeople, or on occasions of 
ceremony, such as a public speech. 

When to use the word ‘ dowager ’ is another difficulty. It is only perfectly 
correct to do so to the mother of the reigning peer or baronet, the widow of the 
uncle, brother, or cousin. The present holder of the title should, strictly speaking, 
be addressed by her Christian name first, and then her title, ‘ Gladys, Countess of 
Lonsdale,’ for example. The mother of the present earl would be, ‘ Countess 
Dowager of Lonsdale.’ 

It is a very easy rule to remember that a formal invitation follows the form of a 
visiting card. 


2 A 2 






356 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


An English baron’s wife is not addressed as the ‘ Baroness,’ but as ‘ the 
Lady Morley,’ or whatever the name may be, but ‘ the Viscountess ’ would be 
correct. 

There is another little point I should like to mention. If a man is raised to the 
peerage, this does not entitle his brothers and sisters to be honourables. When a 
grandson succeeds, the father having died, the precedence is granted to the brothers 
and sisters. 

The proper way to address a letter to a bishop is, ‘ The Right Reverend Father 

in God, The Bishop of-,’ and in speaking to him he is called ‘ My lord.’ It is 

well to avoid using this as much as possible in general conversation, but it is 
applied by those who would never dream of calling any other nobleman ‘ My lord.’ 
A bishop’s wife is simply ‘ Mrs.,’ and has no precedence as such, strictly speaking, 
though it is generally given to her. The rule is that ladies only derive precedence 
from their husb mds when the rank proceeds from a dignity, not from an office or 
profession. There is an exception to this, however, in the case of the Lord Mayor. 

An archdeacon is addressed as ‘ the Venerable,’ but only in the superscription, 
not in the formal invitation. 

The wives of younger sons of dukes and marquises take their husbands’ 
titles. Lord John Bruce’s wife is ‘ Lady John Bruce,’ not ‘Lady Bruce,’ or ‘ Lady 
Anne Bruce.’ 

The younger sons of earls, viscounts, and barons, who are honourables, give the 
same prefix to their wives, and the wife of the Hon. George Hood is ‘ the 
Hon. Mrs. George Hood.’ You do not address him as ‘the Hon. George 
Hood, Esq.,’ but ‘ the Hon. George Hood ’ only. 

The Queen’s maids of honour are styled honourable—the Hon. Flora Mac¬ 
donald, for example, and it is a very frequent practice to drop the ‘ miss ’ in the 
case of the daughters of barons and viscounts, and to call them ‘ the Hon. Ellen 
Brown,’ instead of ‘the Hon. Miss Brown;’ but you must perfectly understand 
that this word honourable is only used on the envelope, not on the visiting card, 
nor in the formal invitation, and it would be vulgar to introduce anyone as ‘ the 
Honourable Alfred Bruce,’ or ‘ the Honourable Ellen Brown,’ or to speak to them 
thus. 

In directing to a Member of Parliament, whatever his rank—of course an 
English peer cannot be a member of the Lower House—the words ‘ M.P.’ should 
be placed after his name, thus, ‘John Jones, Esq., M.P.,’ ‘Sir Sydney Waterlow, 
Bart., M.P.’ 

It is a point of good breeding to give every one their due honour, and it is the 
duty of a lady to study all this. It is quite simple, but requires knowledge and care. 
I hope I have met the difficulties of the case. 


BRIDAL ETIQUETTE. 

Scarcely any of the popular books on bridal etiquette are entirely correct; at 
least according to the Church of England service. First comes the bride. Nearly 
all the books say that the chief bridesmaid should remove and take charge of the 
. left -hand glove of the bride. Both gloves must be removed, as during the service 






BEFORE THE WEDDING, 

























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































358 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


she has first to give her right hand to the bridegroom, and then to take his right 
hand in hers. It is evident that neither must give a gloved hand to the other. 
She should not resume her glove until just before leaving the church, as she will 
have to sign her maiden name in the marriage register in the vestry. When the 
officiating minister asks the question, ‘Who giveth this woman?’ &c., her father, 
or his representative, should take her right hand and place it in that of the bride¬ 
groom. His proper place is behind the bride a little to her right. Having given 
away the bride, the father had better join the rest of the friends, or he may find 
himself in the way. 

Next comes the bridegroom. He also removes both gloves, of which the 
* best man 5 takes charge, and makes sure that he has the ring ready. It is very 
unsafe to put it on his own little finger by way of security, as sometimes it cannot 
be taken off again at the proper time. If he be a wise man, he will entrust a 
second ring to his best man, to be used in case a mishap should occur. Dropping 
the ring is a frequent contretemps, and the distance to which a dropped ring will 
roll and the extraordinary devious course which it will pursue are almost incredible. 

The bridesmaids stand behind the bride during the whole of the ceremony, the 
chief bridesmaid being close to her left, so as to take the gloves, bouquet, &c., see 
that her dress is properly disposed when she kneels, and, if needful, help her to rise. 
On no account should the bridesmaids kneel at any part of the ceremony, the whole 
of the service being for the bride and bridegroom, and no others. If the ceremony 
be conducted according to the strict letter of the law, the whole of the actual 
marriage takes place ‘ in the body of the church,’ generally at the entrance to the 
chancel. Should the service be choral, the psalm is sung by the choir, while the 
clergy, followed by the now married couple, proceed to the communion rails, the 
rest of the company, bridesmaids included, remaining where they were. 

After the last words of the service the husband conducts his wife to the vestry, 
the bridesmaids following them, together with those who will sign the register. It 
is better to choose two or three persons for this purpose—the father being always 
one—and to ask the rest to remain in the church, so that the vestry may not be 
crowded and the bride flurried. All the kissing, and congratulating, and hysterics 
can be reserved until after they return home, when there is plenty of time for them; 
and the truest kindness to the bride is to get her into her carriage as quickly and 
quietly as possible. As to the bridegroom, no persons trouble themselves about 
him. This is rather hard, because he is always far less composed than the bride, 
and is besides haunted with the consciousness that he never felt or looked so 
completely uncomfortable in his life. 



CHAPTER IX 


THE CHEMISTRY OP POOD AND COOKERY. 





IN THE KITCHEN 



































































































































































































































































































































































































CHAPTER IX.—COOKERY. 


THE CHEMISTRY OF FOOD AND COOKERY. 

T the present day, when cookery classes are so much in 
vogue, and ladies of all ages are bestirring themselves to 
teach, or be taught, this most important of all domestic 
arts, we have no doubt that many an intelligent young 
lady, while proficient enough in the practical preparation 
of food, has often wondered why such and such dishes 
were served together, or why this sauce was used with 
one thing, that with another. 

It is always commendable in any one to be desirous 
of knowing the why and the wherefore of things, and 
with a view to answering these and many other questions 
connected with ‘ our daily bread/ we would ask those 
of our fair amateurs at cookery who are desirous of 
such information, to give us their attention while we 
endeavour, in as simple words as possible, to give a 
brief outline of the chemistry of the food we use. 

It will require no deep acquaintance with the sciences to fully understand all 
we have got to say, for though the whole of our chapter will be scientific, science 
is not quite so dreadful a thing as some young folks imagine. Its long unpro¬ 
nounceable words are no doubt formidable, but we shall take care to use none of 
these, for science can be taught very well in the plainest English. 

Well, we shall endeavour, in the first place, to find out what sort of food it is we 
need, and then look about to see where we can find these materials. In the next 
place, we shall try to gain some information as to how our food is digested, and how 
it builds up our flesh and bones, and lastly consider how we may assist Nature in 
her wonderful and often difficult operations by means of cookery. 

To understand aright what is the food we really need, it is necessary to find 
out what our bodies in their full-grown, healthy condition are composed of. In 
preparing a plum pudding, for instance, the ingredients we require are flour, suet, 
fruit, &c., and for building a house the necessary materials are stone, bricks, 
mortar, wood, &c., and if we do not use the proper materials we cannot expect to 
have either a good pudding or a substantial house. So it is with our bodies. We 
must first learn what substances are necessary for building up the noble fabric 
which for a time has such a wonderful inhabitant. 








362 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Let 11s endeavour then to find out what our bodies are made up of. There is, 
first of all, the framework, upon which all the rest is built, namely the bones. Now, 
if we were to analyse a piece of bone we should find that it is almost all made up of 
one substance, called phosphate of lime. Every one knows what phosphorus is— 
the substance which shines in the dark, and is so much in use for making matches. 
If a small piece of phosphorus be burnt in the air, it will give out an intense light 
and produce a dense white vapour, which when dissolved in water produces 
phosphoric acid, and if some chalk or lime be added to phosphoric acid we obtain 
the substance mentioned above—phosphate of lime—of which our bones are almost 
wholly composed. But there is something beyond this mere limey material in 
them, something which helps to bind the lime firmly together, namely, gelatine. 
When we are very young our bones consist almost entirely of gelatine, and this 
explains how it is that children’s bones are so much more pliable and difficult to 
break than those of grown-up people, for as we grow older the lime which we eat 
finds its way through the minute tubes in the bones along which blood is always 
flowing, and is left upon the sides of these little tunnels, so that in course of time 
the bones get quite hard, and the more lime there is in them, of course, the more 
brittle they become. 

Now, covering all the bones and rounding off their angularities, is an entirely 
different material, which we all know as flesh or muscular fibre, while closely 
connected and irregularly mixed up with it is another substance, which we all are 
familiar with under the common name of fat. There is, however, another 
important constituent of the body, namely, water, which is present, more or less, 
throughout every part, but exists in greatest abundance in that wonderful fluid 
which through artery, capillary, and vein is continually hurrying on in the 
performance of its unremitting service. In the same fluid, too, there are certain 
salts, which, although not present in large quantity, are yet indispensable to the 
healthy condition of our bodies, and all these require to be provided for in the food 
we need. 

Flesh or muscular fibre is mainly composed of a substance called fibrin, which 
is very similar in composition to the white of egg. In various animals it presents 
various appearances, being reddish-coloured in some, owing to the presence of 
numerous minute vessels filled with red blood, in others, such as many fishes, 
exhibiting altogether a different character. Now, if we wish to find a suitable food 
to build up this portion of the body in our early years, and repair the waste of flesh 
which is continually going on within us, we must look for a material possessing a 
similar composition, for were we to use pig-iron and salt for producing glass we 
should certainly fail; and in like manner no one wishing to manufacture good steel 
would think of using lead or tin or copper for that purpose. To produce flesh we 
must use something which contains the same elements and in a form capable of 
ready digestion. This we may procure from several sources, for in plants we have 
abundant supplies of gluten, in the milk of animals we have casein, in their eggs 
albumen, and in their flesh fibrin—all substances capable of easy digestion, and 
affording the exact materials needed to produce good muscular fibre or repair its 
waste. 

Of course, from plants we obtain the cheapest supplies, but as there is a great 
deal of good flesh-forming material in the vegetable kingdom, which would either 
be unpalatable to or indigestible by us, mankind have tried to utilise as much of it as 



COOKERY. 


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possible by keeping herds of domesticated animals, which we may really regard as 
our cooks, for they consume such valuable yet unpalatable vegetables as grass, &c., 
and by transforming these materials into their own flesh or into such substances as 
eggs and milk, they actually make the grass and such-like plants into delightful 
articles of diet. There is thus sufficient reason why we should not altogether 
discard animal food from our dietary, even apart from the fact that in this form o 
provender we have that most resembling the material we are endeavouring to build 
up or repair in our own bodies. But as flesh-building is only one of the aims we 
have in view, we find that not only is animal food the most expensive, but it is 
scarcely adapted for our entire dietary. 

Another important fact must not be overlooked : the body requires to be kept 
at practically a uniform temperature of 98 degrees Fahrenheit, and to effect this 
another variety of food or fuel becomes indispensable, namely, such substances as 
fat, oil, starch, and sugar. Widely as these materials may seem to differ, they are 
chemically almost identical, for they all consist of carbon or charcoal combined 
with the elements of water, and none of them contain nitrogen, the element which 
specially distinguishes albumen and other flesh-forming substances. These sub¬ 
stances, as their composition may indicate, are the heat-giving constituents of 
our food, and as it happens that in certain vegetable products, such as grain, we 
find a rich store of this heat-giving substance in the form of starch existing along 
with a large amount of flesh-forming material in the shape of gluten, vegetable food 
thus possesses the advantages of cheapness and suitability combined. From this 
fact we can understand the true reason why bread forms such an important item in 
our diet, and why it should come to be called ‘ the staff of life.’ Fats, oils, and 
sugar serve the same purpose as starchy food, but as they do not combine the 
various properties which cereals possess, they are not made such use of. Fats and 
oils, in the shape of animal food, butter, &c., are even more valuable as heat or 
force producers than starch, as any one may gather from personal observation of 
their combustible properties, and sugar, from the fact that it is already half-cooked, 
is a valuable heat-giver and fat-producer. There is a great deal of misconception 
about sugar spoiling the teeth, &c. Such a belief is altogether absurd, for sugar 
may be consumed without the least detriment to the teeth; it is the many 
objectionable ingredients contained in confections which do the damage, and it 
- were well if children were allowed more pure sugar and fewer sweets, for the desire 
for sweets in childhood is a very natural one, sugar being the most easily digested 
heat-giver, a great deal of this, as of the other food materials, being necessary in 
early life, as everyone knows who has the slightest acquaintance with youthful 
appetites. Therefore, I believe in letting children have a good many ‘ knobs ’ from 
the sugar bowl, and not unfrequently having one myself. 

Having thus briefly referred to the flesh-forming and the heat-giving portion of 
the food we need, let us now shortly consider the bone-builders and the salts so 
necessary to the healthy action of the blood. The chief bone-forming material, as 
we have already said, is phosphate of lime, and it so happens that not only gluten 
and starch, but likewise various salts, especially phosphates, are found all together 
in wheat, oats, and other cereals. Thus we have still another reason for partaking 
largely of these vegetable products. It is of considerable importance, however, to 
know more exactly how these substances occur—in a grain of wheat, for instance. 
If we cut through a well-filled grain of wheat, we find the central part is composed 




THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


364- 

in great part of starch, but the outer layers are more rich in gluten and salts, so that 
if we remove these outer layers, as we do in preparing flour, we lose a good deal of 
valuable material, for although the central portions of the grain retain a considerable 
amount of gluten, the bone-building salts have been mostly removed with the 
external layers of the wheat. Thus we see that, especially for the young, who 
require a large amount of bone-forming food, whole meal or brown bread is very 
much superior to ordinary white bread; but if we examine the composition of oats, 
we shall find they are superior to wheat even, and that oatmeal porridge and milk 
is by far the best food for children, for it supplies abundant materials for 
producing flesh, for giving heat, and for building up the bones. The reason why 
we so often see poor children in the streets of towns with bent legs is because they 
have been fed on improper food, which did not contain enough of lime and other 
salts to produce a substantial framework for the body. And this explains, too, why 
in Scotland such children are scarcely ever to be seen, or, if seen, only in the large 
towns, and fed on something else than oatmeal. 

But lime is not the only substance of this class which the body needs. Other 
salts are required, for the red colour of the blood is due to iron, of which continual 
if not very large supplies are necessary. The brain, too, contains a large 
amount of phosphorus, not in the shape of phosphorus, but as a salt, and to keep 
the blood in solution soda and potash are constantly required ; for without these it 
would cease to be fluid. Then the bile contains a considerable amount of soda, by 
which a busy little soap factory is kept constantly at work within us, so long as 
there is any fat in the food we eat. These and other salts are as necessary to the 
health of the body as what we more commonly regard as ‘ food.’ In the form ot 
common salt we provide a certain portion of these supplies, but most of the saline 
food which we require is eaten unconsciously, for although we may never be aware 
of the fact, in the water we drink and in the bread we eat; we are, nevertheless, 
obtaining the principal part of those salts of lime, soda, potash, phosphorus, &c., 
which we require to keep the body in good working order. 

In many minor portions of our food, however, these salts are abundantly 
supplied. Fish is rich in phosphorus, and contains that substance in a form very 
suitable for repairing the waste of phosphorus in the brain, so for students and 
brain-workers that should be largely made use of. Then, again, the potash and soda 
so serviceable in the blood are found abundantly in those vegetables which we class 
as ‘ greens; ’ and as not only composition but taste must be taken into account, this 
class of food materials deserves to be even more extensively made use of than 
it is. 

But beyond all the various ingredients we have spoken of as necessary for the 
maintenance of health, is another substance of prime importance—namely, water. 
It serves so many purposes in the body that a mere enumeration of them would 
occupy considerable space, and we leave our readers to think out for themselves its 
chief uses. It is sufficient for our present purpose that it is a necessary article of food, 
and that we require a very large amount of it. But although we lose about half a 
gallon ot water every twenty-four hours, and consequently require to make good that 
waste, there are very few who take their liquid food as pure water from the tap or 
spring. For one thing, the mere introduction of such a quantity of cold water into 
our bodies would considerably reduce their temperature, even though taken at 
intervals, so that in this fact we have some explanation of the reason why we drink 



COOKERY. 


365 


our water hot. But some one remarks, ‘ Who ever drinks hot water ? * Just consider 
a moment; what is our tea but water with a mere flavouring of tea, &c. ? Our 
coffee is the same, and so with our soups. Milk is in great part water, even 
when the milkman does not introduce more than it originally contained, and 
indeed every article of food contains more or less of that most precious fluid— 
water. 

Having thus briefly and generally discussed the first part of our subject, we 
proceed to the chemistry of digestion and of cookery in our next section. 


Cooking and Digestion. 

The chemical changes which occur during these processes are often very 
complicated, and in some instances by no means well understood; but the ultimate 
object of them all is to convert the food into soluble forms. Every particle of the 
food we consume must be reduced to a liquid before it can become serviceable for 
the supply of our wants, for it is only substances which can pass through the walls 
of the stomach and the other digestive organs which can be utilised, and solid 
bodies are incapable of doing this. 

For this reason a large proportion of water must necessarily be taken directly or 
indirectly with all our food. Water alone is capable of dissolving the phosphates 
and other mineral salts required for repairing the waste in the bone, blood, and 
certain other animal juices. But most of the starchy ami farinaceous foods, as well 
as the fats and nitrogenous materials required for the formation of flesh or muscular 
fibre, are insoluble in water. Even in the raw state, however, these substances are 
attacked by the animal juices and secretions, and more or less rapidly changed into 
soluble forms, so that it is quite possible for a man to live entirely on raw food. 
But these changes are very much facilitated by previously subjecting the food to a 
certain amount of heat, and thus cooking, in the majority of cases, becomes of 
great assistance to digestion, besides enabling us to utilise many substances which 
would otherwise be of very little value as food. 

Exclusive of the mineral salts and other soluble substances, food materials 
contain three important classes of bodies which undergo distinct and separate 
digestive processes. The most important of these are the various kinds of starches, 
and bodies of similar composition. These form the chief source of the fuel which 
supports the bodily temperature, and supplies the force to drive our internal 
machinery, as well as that expended in muscular exertions. Our supply of these 
materials is derived exclusively from plants. Roots, stems, pith, and leaves are all 
laid under contribution, but the chief sources are the seeds, and especially the seeds 
of graminiferous plants, such as wheat, rice, &c. 

A grain of wheat consists of several layers differing slightly in composition, but 
the interior portion, which is made into flour, consists principally of starch. Under 
the microscope, starch is seen to be made up of innumerable regular-shaped 
grains, which are, in fact, minute bags containing a fine granular material. These 
grains -are insoluble in cold water, but on boiling they swell up and burst, forming 
the clear gelatinous mass familiar to every one. This, also, is insoluble, but the 
addition of a drop or two of an acid, or a small quantity of malt extract, renders 
it easily soluble on heating for a short time. It is, however, no longer starch, having 




366 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


been transformed into a kind of sugar called glucose by means of a peculiar ferment 
called diastase contained in the malt. The saliva contains a similar but more powerful 
ferment—ptyaline—which produces similar changes. Boiled starch is very rapidly 
changed. Even raw starch is partially converted into glucose if mixed with the 
saliva, but the change is slow, and when eaten unboiled a large proportion passes 
through the system unchanged; for neither the acid nor the ferments can act 
readily till the little bags are burst and the granular matter exposed. Here the 
advantage of cooking is manifest. A smaller quantity of the boiled material is 
more useful than a larger quantity of the raw substance, and is also much more easily 
digested. The amount of cooking necessary with the different kinds of starchy 
foods varies considerably. Rice, cornflour, tapioca, and similar preparations of 
nearly pure starch, require only to be boiled till they gelatinize. Flour, grains, and 
seeds, such as peas and beans, which contain nitrogenous material, require longer 
boiling. Roots, such as potatoes and turnips, and especially vegetables, as cabbage 
and cauliflower, contain in addition to starch another substance called cellulose. 
Young shoots and leaves consist almost entirely of water, starch, and cellulose. As 
the plant grows, the latter changes into woody fibre, which can be utilised. Cellulose 
itself is very indestructible. Prolonged boiling renders it partially open to the 
attack of the saliva, and the cooking of these bodies must go on till they are thoroughly 
soft throughout. But this is not the only useful purpose that cooking serves. The 
potato, for instance, belongs to a family famed for the deadly poisonous nature of 
almost every plant it contains. And there can be no doubt that all parts of the 
potato plant contain traces of the poisonous alkaloids which render the nightshade 
so deadly. The leaves, fruit, and flowers are extremely nauseous, and the raw 
tubers are very unwholesome. But the poison is volatile, and any traces of it 
present are driven off during the cooking process, especially if care is taken to dry 
them well after boiling. 

Manioc root, from which tapioca is prepared, is violently poisonous, but the 
roasting it undergoes during the manufacturing process dissipates the poisonous 
body; and other roots and seeds are in a similar way rendered more wholesome by 
cooking. Some roots and seeds contain oils or substances which, though not, perhaps, 
actually poisonous, are bitter or otherwise disagreeable, as carrots, turnips, parsnips, 
and beans. Most of these bodies are driven off more or less completely by 
boiling. 

In addition to the starchy materials, we require for our sustenance a certain 
amount of nitrogenous food. All grains and seeds, and most other vegetable foods, 
contain nitrogenous products, and it is quite possible to live on an exclusively 
vegetable or farinaceous diet. But it is more convenient and more agreeable to 
vary this with a proportion of animal food. After all, this is but an appropriation 
for our own use of partially elaborated materials. All carbonaceous food is 
ultimately derived from vegetable sources, for only plants can convert carbon into 
organised products capable of being assimilated by our bodies, and it is somewhat 
remarkable that it is vegetable-feeding animals whose flesh is chiefly, and, among 
civilised nations, exclusively, used as food. 

The nitrogenous constituents of animal food are found chiefly in the fleshy 
muscular fibres. The effect of cooking on these is twofold. The materials are 
disintegrated, owing to the heat melting the fat and gelatin which bind the muscles 
together, and the fibrin and other nitrogenous bodies are coagulated—a change 



COOKERY. 


367 


which is a necessary preliminary to digestion, and which it is very convenient to 
have effected before the food is eaten. The saliva has very little effect on these 
bodies, and mastication appears to be simply useful in converting the food into 
small pieces, and moistening it so that it may be easily swallowed. When the 
coagulated material passes into the stomach, however, it is attacked by the gastric 
juice. The active agent in this gastric juice is another peculiar ferment called 
pepsin. This can only act properly in the presence of an acid, and the acid 
generally employed is the hydrochloric or muriatic acid derived from the common 
salt and other chlorides always directly or indirectly eaten with flesh food. With 
the help of the acid the gastric juice rapidly converts the boiled nitrogenous bodies 
into peptones, which differ very little in chemical composition from the compounds 
from which they are derived, and are chiefly distinguished therefrom by being 
soluble. Uncooked flesh undergoes a similar change, but more slowly, and thus 
carnivorous animals require a much longer time to digest their food than we do, 
though the gastric secretions are more abundant. 

Besides the nitrogenous materials animal food contains fatty bodies, and similar 
substances from other sources (as oils, butter, &c.) form a not inconsiderable 
proportion of our food. These do not differ greatly in composition from starch, 
and serve similar purposes in the animal economy; but they undergo an entirely 
different digestive process. Cooking does not appear of any advantage so far as they 
are concerned, though it is, perhaps, convenient to eat them hot. Neither the 
saliva nor the gastric juice has any appreciable effect on them. They appear to 
assist the digestion of flesh food in the stomach, but they themselves pass into the 
small intestines almost unaltered. Here they come in contact with the bile, and 
undergo a similar change to that produced on tallow by the soapmaker. They are, 
in fact, converted into soluble soaps, by means, chiefly, of the soda liberated from 
the common salt in the gastric juice. 

From whatever source derived, these three kinds of food undergo the same 
changes during the processes of cooking and digestion. That digestion may be 
easy we have seen how useful thorough cooking is in the case of the first two, and 
especially where vegetables are concerned. As to the different methods of cooking 
—roasting, boiling, baking, &c.—theoretically it is a matter of indifference. A 
certain amount of heat is all that is essentially necessary. But moist heat is usually 
much more effective than dry. With prepared starchy substances and farinaceous 
grains a certain amount of water is necessary. Starchy bodies when heated dry, are, 
indeed, after a time, converted into dextrin, but this is not nearly so easily effected 
by the saliva as on boiled starch. On the other hand, many vegetables contain suffi¬ 
cient moisture to cook themselves, if means are taken to prevent its escape during the 
process. Thus, in bread-making the dough, which the yeast has partially altered, 
when put in the oven hardens first on the outside and prevents the moisture from 
escaping, till a high temperature is attained sufficient to coagulate the gluten and 
burst the starch cells. The potato skin performs a similar function for that article, 
and there is no better way of cooking the tuber than baking it with ‘ its jacket on.’ 
In roasting meat, also, the fibrin on the surface gets coagulated, and, preventing the 
escape of the juices, enables the joint to be thoroughly cooked. Basting with butter 
or lard acts in a similar manner, forming an impervious film over the substances 
being cooked. In roasting and baking the natural juices and other substances are 
partially retained, which is an advantage, except where the object is to form a soup 



368 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK, 


of the liquid used in boiling. Having been well cooked, the food ought to be 
thoroughly masticated. So far as the starchy portion of our diet is concerned, we have 
seen this is absolutely essential, and a good deal of the indigestion that arises from 
eating vegetable food springs from a neglect of this necessary preliminary. 

The digestion of other substances is greatly aided by its reduction to a pulp in 
the mouth. On its arrival in the stomach it is mechanically rolled about and 
thoroughly mixed with the gastric juice and the acid, and is soon reduced to the 
consistence of pea-soup, the greater portion of the nitrogenous and starchy matters 
being dissolved. Part of these pass directly through the walls of the stomach, but 
the greater portion escapes to the small intestines, where the bile and other juices 
complete the digestive process. As it rolls along these canals, the soluble portion 
is absorbed by a set of vessels called lacteals, and from these it passes into the 
blood, chiefly just before the return of the latter to the heart. 

A certain amount of mineral salts is also necessary, but these are generally 
sufficiently plentiful in ordinary food materials, common salt being, perhaps, the 
only case where a special supply is necessary. The red colour of the blood is due 
to a minute trace of iron, which performs the important function of fixing the 
oxygen gas of the air and transferring it to the blood for combination with those 
materials with which the latter has been supplied from the food. A considerable 
quantity of potash and soda is required to keep the nitrogenous materials of the 
blood fluid. These are chiefly supplied by greens and similar vegetables, and the 
practice of eating these with meat is scientifically correct and useful. Many similar 
combinations founded on long practice are also found to be based on scientific 
principles. The alkali salts are partially removed from vegetables by boiling, and 
we therefore attempt to use them uncooked. But these are very indigestible, and 
to overcome this as far as possible we eat along with them considerable quantities of 
vinegar. The acid not only itself attacks the food, but it stimulates the secretion 
of saliva, as do all condiments and pungent appetisers. 

Jams and preserved fruit, along with preparations of cornflower, arrowroot, &c., 
assist digestion, owing to the presence of traces of fruit acids. Vinegar and butter 
with fish, and the various gravies, &c., with meat, serve similar functions, as well as 
being agreeable to our taste. Other common combinations are not so useful, and 
some are certainly hurtful. In cases of persons accustomed to an open-air life, and 
not exposed to unnecessarily severe toil, it is more than probable that tea, coffee, 
and the various forms of alcoholic liquors are not only useless, but hurtful. In the 
complicate life of city civilisation, however, a certain quantity of these stimulants 
is, perhaps, necessary. It is impossible to venture on the vexed question of 
alcohol, but we may say that a very small quantity will go a long way for useful 
results with ordinarily healthful persons, and of all forms of alcoholics mild ale and 
beer are certainly the best and most nutritious. Tea and coffee are very apt to be 
abused, and to be drunk at wrong times. In moderation these exhilarate, refresh, 
and soothe the overworked system, but they are detrimental to the health of children 
and young growing persons. Taken, as they often are, with meat they greatly retard 
digestion. Their tannin forms with the gelatin of meat a leathery mass in the 
stomach which produces dyspepsia and other unpleasant symptoms. The proper 
time to take them is with bread or starchy bodies, or, as in the East, between meals. 
Cocoa is much better than either, but most persons quickly get tired of it, and it 
disagrees entirely with many delicate stomachs. 



COOKERY. 


369 


Sugar and similar bodies require little digestion, and the reason why there is so 
great a contrast between the digestibility of ripe and unripe fruit is that the former 
consists almost wholly of sugar bodies and water. Fruit, in fact, undergoes similar 
changes in ripening that starch does in contact with the saliva; the changes being 
preliminary to the absorption of the materials by the seeds when they start growth. 
The sweet juices in such plants as the sugar-cane are produced in a similar way, 
these bodies being all partly digested. 

A knowledge of the functions and properties of the different kinds of foods 
enables us to select those which will supply suitable proportions of the various con¬ 
stituents necessary for building up our bodies. In a measure, practice has already 
invented combinations for this purpose. Bacon and greens, pork and beans, apple 
sauce and goose and bread, meat and potatoes with gravy, are all combinations 
where the three great classes of material are mixed in such a way as to aid each 
other’s digestion. So we use milk and butter to supply fat and nitrogenous material 
in our pastry, eggs with rice and sago, cheese with macaroni, butter with bread, oil 
and eggs with salad, and numerous other mixtures. 

Guided by moderation and common sense, persons of ordinary intelligence do 
not usually greatly violate scientific laws in regard to their food ; but a knowledge 
of the chemistry of the subject would tend to correct some common errors, and 
conduce to the invention of new, tasteful, and easily-digested dishes. 

Many people fall into the error of speaking and acting as if the saying, Faris 
Jest la France, were really fact. In like manner, I have heard those who have spent 
months in France, staying the whole time in the best hotels, dilate on French 
cookery, and speak of the way the French live. I would have my readers remember 
that the cooking and living in hotels differ as much from the providing in private 
families as a dinner at a table d’hote in England does from the ordinary home dinner. 
Again, many who travel in France go to hotels or pensions (boarding houses) 
frequented almost exclusively by English, and the proprietors of such have an 
annoying way of suiting their dishes, as they think, to their customers. The result 
of this is that they are neither good English nor good French. I was much amused 
a few weeks ago to see written on a menu (bill of fare) ‘ English mint sauce ’; but 
my amusement was turned into disgust when I had taken some, and discovered that 
it was warm gravy with chopped mint in it—no vinegar! It would be difficult to 
imagine anything more flat. However, it is not always the case that our English 
dishes are spoilt, for what the chef (the name by which head cooks are always 
called in France) called ‘ English pancakes ’ were certainly delicious little compounds, 
as far superior to our pancakes as the mint sauce was inferior. 

Here let me give a word of advice to my young readers who wish to learn French 
cooking: do not attempt to improve or alter recipes, at all events until you have 
carefully tried them, and found that the results are not satisfactory. I was looking 
through some papers the other day, and found what purported to be instructions 
for preparing a ‘ French soup.’ The distinctive character of the particular soup 
should be some cut chervil, which ought to be thrown in at the moment of serving. 
The translator had omitted the chervil, under the impression, no doubt, that the 
taste for it being rather an acquired one than otherwise, most people would object 
to it; but, obviously, it was no longer a ‘ French soup.’ This is such a common 
error in Anglo-French cooking, that I must again emphatically advise you to follow 
with accuracy the directions given, and not your own ideas, remembering that in 

2 B 



370 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


France cooking was an art long before English people thought of doing much more 
than boil or bake. Before we had schools of cookery, the French had instituted an 
order of merit for good cooks. It is called the Cordon Bleu. 

Contrasting English and French cookery, I think the latter has many advantages 
where ladies wish to superintend their own cooking. Perhaps the greatest of these 
is that it does not require as much time to be spent in the kitchen; not that the 
viands take less time to cook, but on account of the difference in the appliances and 
the arrangements for a French dinner; also, the proper management of that all- 
important adjunct, the pot au-feu , or, as we call it, the stock-pot. Then it is more 
economical — that is to say, that if we lived as the French live, we should spend less 
money in housekeeping, and put equally good dinners on the table, for there is not 
any waste in a well-managed French house. The French as a nation are careful 
and frugal. I have frequently seen a French labourer seated by the roadside eating 
his dinner—a mixture of broth and vegetables with bread in it—with a spoon out of 
a bowl, this being the entire meal of a man who did not consider himself very poor. 
I think most English girls would be astonished if they knew how many things are 
eaten in France that we should never use, and not only is it that they are eaten, but 
delicate little dishes are made of them. I will name a few of these presently, but 
before I do so I must ask you to visit a French kitchen with me. 

The flat to which it belongs is tenanted by a lady of good position; it is the 
smallest of the six rooms which the flat comprises, and only measures eight feet by- 
twelve feet. One young servant is kept, and a cook comes every afternoon about 
five o’clock to prepare the dinner, and before leaving she will look to her stock-pot 
for the morrow, and also arrange for the dejeuner (which in France is sometimes at 
ten, and sometimes at twelve o’clock), and which the young servant, with perhaps 
a little help from her mistress, will be able to serve. It will be difficult for most of 
my readers to realise what can be accomplished in this little kitchen, on one side 
of which is the stove, in a corner the place for washing up; and let me tell you I 
have seen the whole of the things from a dinner washed without the washer wetting; 
her hands—the dishes and plates being cleaned with a little mop, the saucepans- 
with a brush. There is not much furniture—a table, much smaller than our kitchen 
tables, for French cooks seem to work more compactly, and use fewer basins, &c. 
The stewpans, chiefly copper, and other things, are hung up round the kitchen 
and are nearly all bright and easily to hand. There are also sieves of different 
sizes. These are much more used than in England, delicate cookery requiring 
things to be more strained and sifted. 

On the stove are two things—the soup-pot, which is here of earthenware, and is 
called a Marmite , and the Bain Marie . I must explain, for the benefit of those who 
have never seen one, that a Bain Marie pan is a sort of tray, about six inches deep, 
generally made of copper, and having from three to a dozen various-sized saucepans, 
all of which are bright, fitting into it. When in use, the Bain Marie pan is filled 
half full of water, and the saucepans stand in the water, which is kept boiling. 
Having put the saucepans in, the cook has no more trouble, excepting the adding 
of more boiling water as that in it evaporates. The contents of the saucepans in 
the water will not burn, nor will they waste nearly as much as if they were on the 
stove. Our cooks make an imitation Bain Marie when they stand a jug in a 
saucepan of water to make custards. On one side of the stove is a place for 
charcoal or embers, and a gridiron. A fire of this kind gives off a clear heat, 



COOKERY. 


371 


and is soon lighted ; it is much easier to broil over than a coal fire, and much 
cleaner. 

For frying, there are pans of three sorts—a straight-edged shallow one, called a 
sautoir, a frying-pan such as we use, called a potte , used for omelets, &c., and the 
frying-pan or poele d fnre , a large deep saucepan with two handles, and which has 
a long-handled wire saucepan that fits into it. In this, beignet (fritters), small 
fish, potatoes, and pastry is fried. The cook will place the articles to be fried in the 
wire basket, and then place the basket in the pan of boiling fat, which she will have 
ready. There are also some brown jars with covers and handles ; these are used 
for stewing in, and as they do not get as quickly from a simmer to a boil, are 
preferable to saucepans for many things. In this kitchen they use one of these 
earthenware pots, which is white inside, for boiling the milk for the morning coffee. 
In England the cook puts the milk in a saucepan and boils it up quickly; if it has 
to wait a little, she puts it well back, for fear it should burn. When it is wanted, 
she pours it into a jug, the thick scum remaining in the saucepan. She sends up a 
poor thin fluid, tasting like milk and water, and scarcely showing when added to 
the coffee. If sufficient milk is added, the coffee seems poor. 

In France, the milk for the caf'e-au-lait is boiled in a deep, small, round pan. 
Before putting the milk in, it should be wetted with cold water, to prevent its 
burning; then the milk, instead of being boiled up in a hurry, should be simmered 
for half an hour at least. When it is poured out, it will be about as thick as single 
cream, and you will have an important element of good French cafe-au-lait. 

While I am writing of milk, I will tell you how to make a cup of chocolate in 
the French way. I think some of my readers will like to try it. 

Take an inch wide stick of chocolate (Menier, I prefer), place it whole in a 
saucepan just lar^e enough to let it lie flat, only cover it with water, then put it on 
the fire to dissolve. Shake the saucepan now and then to help it, but do not use a 
spoon or try to hurry it, or you will have a sediment at the bottom of your cup, 
which there should not be if the chocolate is properly made. When the whole 
stick is dissolved, add half a pint of cold milk, and boil for twenty minutes, stirring 
all the time, and you will then have a cup of delicious chocolate. 

Before entering on the subject of cooking the viands, I want my readers to 
consider what the French cook, and how limited the number of our aliments are 
when compared with theirs. I have myself eaten in Brittany, and found very good 
when well cooked, conger eel and dog-fish. I do not think the latter is ever eaten 
in England, nor are escargots, a sort of large sea snail. Doubtless most of my young 
readers would be disgusted at the idea of eating a snail, and forget how many 
English eat periwinkles. I do not know how the latter taste, but they certainly 
look less tempting than escargots do when they are served as they are in France, 
with the shells filled up with green forcemeat. 

I have also seen mussels ( monies in French) cooked in seven or eight different 
ways. In many Paris restaurants they are served for the dejedner , sometimes in a 
tureen, with a great deal of sauce; and are not to be despised. There are many 
other denizens of the river and the sea that are good when well dressed, but which 
we never put on the table here. Vegetables are eaten in much larger quantities 
than in England. Paris itself is much better supplied than London, there being 
many more market gardens round it. In the Paris markets vegetables are frequently 
sold prepared for use; for instance, you can buy carrots ready shred for your 

2 B 2 





372 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Julienne soup, potatoes ready washed, beans cut—all a saving of time, and a great 
help to those who do their own cooking. 

The salad is a great feature in all French housekeeping; it is made with almost 
anything. The poor man will pick dandelion and lamb’s-lettuce, and make a salad 
of them, if he has nothing else. A lettuce seems to us always to be the necessary 
base of a salad, whereas almost any cold vegetables, such as young potatoes, French 
beans, haricot beans, broad beans, or peas, make very good salads. Fresh 
tomatoes and barbe de capucin (a sort of endive that is tied up to bleach and 
covered over, as the growers do celery here) are also used. Barbe de capucin is a 
winter salad, and is so useful I wonder it is not oftener grown in England. Lettuce 
and endive, which we only use uncooked, make extra vegetables in France, as they 
are stewed in various ways. Leeks and sorrel (oseille) are also much eaten. 

Perhaps the greatest difference in the two nations of which I am writing is in the 
consumption of animal food. I suppose it arises partly from our not taking 
sufficient trouble over the preparation of our food, that we are certainly the most 
dainty of European nations. We exclude so much from our tables as not ‘good 
enough’ to serve, which, when we are abroad, most of us enjoy in happy ignor¬ 
ance. I wonder what you would say if, after eating some very good soup, you were 
told that it was made from calves’ lungs, or, as we call them in England after the 
animal is killed, calves’ lights ! Among the things that I have seen served at 
French tables, and which, if eaten in England, I fancy would only be found on the 
tables of the very poor, are ox livers, hearts, and brains, sheeps’ brains (these are 
frequently dressed and called sweetbreads on the menus; so frequently, that I 
rarely take sweetbread in France, for fear of finding brains only, which are very 
much inferior), sheeps’ tails and hearts, lambs’ ears, heads, and tails, pigs’ ears and 
brains, turkey pinions. Cocks’ combs are considered a great delicacy. I dare say 
my readers have oiten seen them preserved in bottles in French shops here. I do 
not myself think there is any taste in them, and class them with the dishes of 
peacocks’ brains that were served long ago. Their merit was their scarcity. The 
head of the peacock is singularly small compared to the body. Many small 
birds are eaten, but I sincerely hope we shall not take to eating thrushes and black¬ 
birds ! I only regret that larks are eaten, and fear that if our other little songsters 
were brought to market as ruthlessly as larks are, our woods and gardens would 
soon be as void of song as are many parts of France. 

Having taken a cursory glance at edibles generally, I will now briefly notice 
some of the various ways of preparing them. 

In France, in the house of the rich, and the cottage of the poor, soup is considered 
the base of a good repast. The houses are very rare where it is not served every 
day. The soups are not as strong as ours—the proportion of water in them is 
certainly greater. The pot-au-feu , or soup-pot, the contents of which serve as 
simple soup, or as the base of almost all soups and gravies, is of great importance. 
Into it is put meat, bones, all kinds of vegetables, a bouquet garni (sweet-herbs, 
parsley, and a bay-leaf tied together), bits of bread, a lump of sugar, &c. There is 
one thing in the management of this pot that must not be forgotten ; it is absolutely 
necessary that it should be kept well skimmed—it must be remembered that if what 
rises to the top is allowed to remain there, it will soon disappear again, and will 
make the whole of the contents of the stock-pot thick and muddy-looking, and give 
double the trouble to clear it that it would have given to keep it clear. 



COOKERY. 


373 


YVhat you have taken from the top of the stock you will find is chiefly fat, 
and is not to be wasted, but treated thus : Put the skimming into a saucepan 
with a pint of water and any bits of cooked fat or remains of dripping (in fact, take 
the opportunity for a clearance), boil all together, stir occasionally, and when beads 
appear on the top, stand the saucepan on one side a few minutes; then strain the 
fat through a tammy into a jar in which you have placed two bay-leaves, to perfume 
the fat and keep it sweet; put aside for frying. 

While on the subject of fat, I would call your attention to the different kinds 
used for frying. In England we use butter, lard, or dripping. In France lard 
is not much used, but dripping, prepared according to the directions just given, is 
a great deal used. In Brittany, Normandy, and pasture countries, butter is much 
used, also oil made from the field poppy; but in the southern parts oil—not only 
olive-oil, which is the only oil we ever use (to the best of our knowledge), but also 
beech nut and beech fruit. These are both very good oils. Fish cooking is very 
different. Of course one frequently sees plain fried or broiled fish in France ; but 
those are only two ways out of many. Mushrooms are frequently used with fish, as 
also different vinegars. 

The vinegars made with tarragon, chervil, &c., are a feature in French cooking; 
they are most useful in gravies and sauces. I would recommend readers of The 
Girts Own Indoor Book , if they have not done so already, to get some seed and 
grow chervil in pots; it is very pretty, something like a fern, and the leaves are 
verv nice, and give a pretty appearance when cut into clear gravy soup. 

Vegetables are always cooked in France. I do not think we can really call 
our way of putting them in a saucepan of water, and throwing into the waste-butt 
half the goodness of them, ‘cooking vegetables.’ Where there is a pig-tub it 
would be as appropriate to call it making soup for the pigs. My readers have, I 
dare say, heard of the old woman who had some tea given her for the first time. 
She poured water on it, as she was told. When she thought it had stood long 
enough she threw away the water, and was much disappointed to find the leaves 
were not to her taste. Well, I think we do almost as foolishly as the old woman. 

I think spinach is the only vegetable we cook in its own juice. The French 
cook many vegetables without water, and when they use any, it is only just enough 
to cook them. Some contain sufficient moisture, some are cooked in a little butter 
or stock, so that if you were going to cook a few peas in France you would not need 
to put a big saucepan of water on, but a little pan, and a lump of butter, and a lump 
of sugar would produce a far more satisfactory dish. French people call our mint 
with peas an abomination. Sugar is a great deal used in all vegetable cookery. 

We next come to meats. In proportion as vegetables are more eaten in France, 
is less meat eaten ; the dishes are lighter. Small dishes are, as I have already said, 
made of all sorts of things, including, in addition to those I have already given, every¬ 
thing that we eat. Then gravies and sauces are much more important things. 
Five-and-twenty years ago there was good reason for their being so, as the meat 
was so inferior to English; but that has improved, and is still improving. When I 
speak of sauces, be it understood that I do not mean sauces in the sense of Harvey’s 
or Worcester, or other bought sauces, which are quite English, and never used in 
French cookery, but sauces made to be served with certain dishes. 

Caramel is used a great deal in meat gravies. So much has been written about 
its use in several papers lately, and it has been so praised, that I may as well tell 



374 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


you how to make it. It is best to keep a little saucepan for the purpose (choose 
one that is not lined), as it spoils it sometimes. Take half a pound of white sugar, 
put about a tablespoonful of water to it, put over the fire, and stir. When the 
sugar has taken a dark brown colour (it must not be allowed to get black), add 
half a pint of hot water, stir well, take from the fire, when cool bottle for use. 
There is another kind of caramel, which doubtless all my readers know very well, 
bejng a very nice sweet. 

Caramel really means the point to which sugar is boiled. There are. different 
names for the different degrees to which it is boiled. Caramel is the last point at 
which it is good; if you try to boil beyond, you will have a cinder ! 

There is a great difference in French and English puddings and tarts. I do 
not think they make many things as good as an English fruit tart; their entre?nets 
(as the sweets served as our puddings are, are called) are generally sweeter, richer, 
and less wholesome than our English puddings. A tart made as we make one is 
never seen on a French table; their tarts are made open, with a firm sort of crust, 
and are filled with grapes, cherries, apples, or any other fruit stewed in syrup. 1 
think we eat puddings more than French people do; light cakes and light pastry, 
in which the French excel, often take the place of our puddings. 

Egg cookery generally is very good in France. 

I wish before I close these few words to give you two menus, one for a dejeHner , 
the other for a dinner, and I will select dishes that I think any of my young readers 
could cook with the assistance of the recipes that accompany the menus. I 
must preface the menus by saying that, in addition to the meal to be served, there 
are always for dejedner and dinner small dishes on table called hors-d' oeuvre. 
Narrow little dishes are used for these. Butter, radishes, olives, gherkins, sardines, 
anchovies, caviare, and many other things are used as hors-d'oeuvre. These dishes 
are partaken of between the courses. 

Menu de Dejeuner: 

CEufs a la Polig?iac. 

Morue a la Lyonnaise. 

Miroto?i de Bceuf. 

Chouxfleurs en Salade. 

Dessert. 

CEufs d la Polignac .—Butter some dariole moulds (such as are used for cup 
puddings); cover the bottom of each mould with finely-chopped parsley, break a 
fresh egg into each, add a little salt; then stand the moulds in a stewpan in which 
there is a little boiling water (not enough to boil over into the eggs), cook five 
minutes, serve turned out of the moulds on to a hot dish or buttered toast. 

Morue d la Lyonnaise .—Put some slices of cod in hot water, boil five minutes, 
then drain, take out the bones, and flake the cod. Chop four small onions, fry 
them in butter with a bay-leaf; when nearly done, add the cod, and fry together 
gently for ten minutes to brown the fish. Serve with pepper, salt, and chopped 
parsley over the top. Finish by squeezing the juice of a lemon over it. Take out 
the bay-leaf. 

Miroton de Boeuf .—Chop two onions, put them in a stewpan with a bit of 
butter, put over the fire for five minutes, shake the pan now and then, then dredge 
in two tablespoonfuls of flour; moisten with half a pint of stock and a teaspoonful 
of white wine, add a little salt, half a bay-leaf, and a pinch of pepper; boil ten 



COOKERY. 


375 


minutes. Meanwhile, cut some nice thin slices of cold beef, put them into the 
stewpan, simmer gently twenty minutes; take out the bay-leaf; finish with a few 
drops of vinegar, and serve. 

Chouxfieurs en Salade. —Divide a cauliflower into small pieces, boil until 
tender. The stalks and green parts should be put into the saucepan first, as they 
take longer to boil; when done, drain well, cut the stalks into pieces about an inch 
l° n g> put in a salad bowl with the rest of the cauliflower; season with pepper, salt, 
oil, vinegar, and mustard; serve cold, or fry for two minutes, and serve hot. 

Remark that the three last recipes are suited for re-cooking cold things, which is 
generally convenient for luncheon. 

Mejiu de Diner. 

Soupe puree de Navels . 

Soles au four. 

Epinards an jus. 

Poulet au Blanc. 

Souffle aux Pomines. 

Dessert. 

Soupe pur'ee de Navels .—Take two pounds of peeled turnips, cut into little 
squares, place in a stewpan with two ounces of butter, stir them over a quick fire, 
add some salt and a good spoonful of flour, then add two quarts of stock (or rather 
less hot water), simmer gently one hour and a half, pass the whole through a sieve, 
put back in the stewpan, season, stir, boil up, and serve. If made with water, add 
a little flour and butter, and half a pint of milk or cream, before serving. 

Soles au four .—Egg and bread-crumb two soles, dip them in some oiled butter, 
place them side by side on a flat dish with the remains of the oiled butter, put 
them in the oven, baste them every now and then with the butter, and bake about 
twenty minutes; serve with cut lemon. 

Epinards au jus .—Take one pound of spinach, cook in a saucepan, with one 
tablespoonful of water; when tender, chop fine. Make two ounces of butter hot in 
in a stewpan, put in the chopped spinach, and stir over the fire until it begins to 
dry; then season it, add a spoonful of flour, and moisten gradually with about a 
quarter of a pint of good gravy; finish with a small piece of butter. Serve with 
toasts fried in butter put round. 

Poulet au Blanc. —Fasten a slice of bacon over the breast of a fowl, put into a 
stewpan with a pint of white stock or water (warm), mix one ounce of butter and a 
spoonful of flour together, and add with a bouquet garni and some button mush¬ 
rooms. Simmer gently twenty-five minutes, or longer if the fowl is large, turning 
the fowl over now and then. Skim, strain the sauce, put the fowl on a dish with 
the mushrooms round it, and stir the sauce into a saucepan in which you have the 
yolks of two eggs beaten; let it thicken, not boil. Pour over the fowl, and serve. 

Souffle aux Pommes. —Chop eight apples, put them in a stewpan with a table¬ 
spoonful of cold water, half a pound of white sugar, and a bit of lemon-peel, 
boil to a marmalade, stirring all the time. Beat lightly, with a little pounded 
sugar, the whites of six eggs, take out the lemon-peel, add the apple to the eggs, 
put into a buttered souffle-dish, smooth the top with the blade of a knife, bake 
twenty-five minutes, and serve very hot. The whole of this dinner can be cooked 
in two hours. 






376 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


\ 


FRIED POTATOES. 

It is commonly supposed that every one knows how to fry potatoes, but 
we are convinced that comparatively few know how to fry potatoes after the 
French method. Nowhere have we seen in print a plain and simple description 
of the manner in which they are cooked. Most recipes which are given leave 
the cook to suppose that they are done in an ordinary frying-pan, while the 
case is very different. The first thing to be procured is a large, deep iron pot or 
cauldron, the larger the better, filled with fat, or, at least, filled with as much as will 
boil conveniently. This fat may consist of melted suet, lard, butter, or oil; a mixture 
of the first three is considered by experienced cooks as the best, but lard alone 
may be used, and butter and oil are said to go well together. This may be thought 
an expensive arrangement, but when it is considered that, unless it should get 
spoiled by burning, the same fat may be used over and over again for a year, or, 
with additions to make up for evaporation or absorption, for an indefinite time, it 
will be found, after all, to be not a very costly process. The same fat may also be 
used for rissoles of meat or fritters of any sort, so that it will be seen that the iron 
pot is a very convenient institution. Some cooks even put fish into the same fat, 
but this is not generally advisable, nor should we think it safe to put anything 
mixed with onions in it, as it (the fat) might acquire their strong flavour. 

To return to our fried potatoes: the best for the purpose, as giving the least 
trouble, are large and longish ones, as they should be cut lengthwise in finger- 
shaped pieces. We presume it is understood they must be raw ones. After 
having been pared, washed, drained, and dried in a cloth, they are put in the 
boiling fat, and if quite covered they require no moving about until they become of 
a golden colour, when they are taken out, put in a drainer for a few seconds, and 
lastly, sprinkled with salt before being served. There is no salt put in the fat. If 
the potatoes are not entirely covered while cooking, they may be turned with an 
iron skimmer or spoon. The fire ought to be clear and brisk, as the fat must boil. 
Indeed, this process of cooking does not correspond to our English idea of frying, 
it may be called, boiling in fat instead of water. Burning the fat must be avoided ; 
and it should be kept in mind that as soon as it is hot enough the potatoes must 
be put in, and also that the pot should be lifted off the fire before they are taken out, as 
the fat will burn if left on the fire with nothing in it. The proper heat for putting 
them in is ascertained by throwing in a drop of cold water; if it should crack 
violently, it is hot enough. A piece of potato or any other vegetable may be put 
in to try the heat, for if the things to be fried are put in at too low a temperature 
they absorb the grease, are heavy, and do not take on the required golden colour. 
They ought to be dry enough outside to be eaten with the fingers without any 
sensation of grease being felt. Lovers of fried potatoes always say they taste 
better when eaten so, and it is in this way they are served alone and eaten by 
thousands at all the popular fttes and fairs in many Continental countries. At these 




FRENCH RECIPES. 


377 


fairs there are always a great many booths for nothing else but the cooking and 
consumption of fried potatoes, and the boiling cauldrons seem to be kept continually 
replenished. We must confess that the first time we ate fried potatoes in France 
we were at a loss to know what was handed to us, as they looked more like sponge¬ 
cakes or a kind of bread than fried potatoes, according to our idea of them. At 
table they are generally served with beef-steak, but our private opinion is, that 
potatoes simply boiled as in England are much preferable with gravy of any sort, as 
the French fried potatoes, being so dry, do not absorb it nor mix with it. We 
cannot help thinking that one reason why potatoes on the Continent are seldom 
served plainly boiled is that they are of inferior quality to those cultivated in 
England. Nowhere have we tasted potatoes so good in themselves as are to be 
found in our own country, while on the Continent many people prefer those of a 
waxy consistency. It will be understood, for fried potatoes, the quality matters 
little, and so a good cook might in this way utilise those not considered good enough 
for boiling. 

We should advise those who have not tried the process we have described, to 
begin with a small pot of fat, keeping another for fish. When the cooking is 
finished, the pot is simply put away with the fat in it until required again. When 
necessary, it may be strained from time to time. Great care must be taken not to 
upset it while on the fire, as a serious accident might ensue. 


♦ 


FRENCH RECIPES. 

La Friture. 

Under this heading we propose to indicate various methods of utilising the 
fat in which fried potatoes are cooked. The uses to which it may be put are 
numerous, and an intelligent cook will readily perceive that by its means the 
remains of cold meat of any kind can be made into an appetising and presentable 
dish. As a general rule, when the meat is minced and made up into balls, an 
egg is necessary to keep the mixture together, nor should rolling in flour or 
bread-crumbs be forgotten. We give here only two French recipes for using up 
cold meat in this manner, but variations of these may be made at pleasure. 

Take any kind of cooked meat or fowl, mince it very fine along with a little 
beef-suet or bacon fat, season with salt and pepper, and, if liked, add some cooked 
potatoes. Mix all with one or two eggs, according to the quantity of mincemeat, 
make up into little balls, roll them in flour or fine bread-crumbs, and put them into 
the boiling fat. These balls swell a little, and ought to be bright. They may be 
served either with or without an accompanying sauce. They are often eaten with 
tomato sauce. Where pork is liked, they may be mixed with sausage meat. 

The other recipe is for what are called croquettes de veau , made of cold roast 
veal. They are so generally liked that they are often made expressly for select 
dinners or special occasions. 





378 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Mince the veal very fine, and season to taste. Make a white sauce with flour and 
melted butter, add the mince to it, let it cook for a minute or so, and then allow 
it to get cold. If the mixture is made the day before being used, it is all the better. 
An eg? may be added if wished. Make up into little balls or rolls; if into the 
latter flatten the ends, dip each roll into an egg, beat up white and yolk together, 
and roll in very fine bread-crumbs. The crumbs used by French cooks are those 
of rusks or bread browned in the oven. When all the rolls are made up, plunge 
them into the boiling fat. Serve very hot. They ought to be quite soft and rather 
liquid inside, although browned on the outside. 

As we have already stated, some cooks put fish into the same fat which is used 
for cooking potatoes, but it is more advisable to have a separate pot for fish. 
Cooked in this way small fish look and taste very well, as do also the remains of 
cold fish simply dipped in egg and bread-crumbs, or made up into balls with some 
crumbs or potatoes. 

But coming back to the identical pot of fat used for potatoes, let us see how a 
French cook uses it for getting up sweet dishes. These are all made either of a 
mixture used alone and thrown into the fat, or with fruit dipped into it, thus 
corresponding to our English fritters. Of all these preparations, we think the best 
are apple-fritters, beigtiets aux pommes , as the French call them; but, of course, the 
larger fruits of any kind may be used. We have even seen a recipe beigtiets aux 
fleurs tfacacia, the white flowers of the acacia tree. A lady who has tasted them 
assured us that they were very good, having a flavour of orange-flower, and 
besides, making an exceedingly pretty dish. We suppose the bunches of flowers 
would retain their elegant shape, although dipped in the paste. Another curious 
recipe is for fritters made with sorrel leaves, beigtiets d'oseille; each leaf, with the 
stalk attached, being dipped into the paste, and then cooked. 

It is astonishing, by the way, what a large place the sorrel plant has in French 
cookery, as no green soup, or potage , as it is called, is ever made without it, and 
spinach is seldom served without a large proportion of sorrel being mixed with it. 
We need not wonder, therefore, that the plant is used for fritters, and when we 
find so many sweetmeats made of violet and rose leaves, we need not hesitate to 
eat those made from the acacia flower. French cooks, we find, are of our opinion, 
that no fruit equals the apple for fritters, and that even the delicate peach appears 
rather to lose its flavour in such a preparation. 

Supposing that our readers know that the apples must be cut into round slices 
and cored, we give the French recipe for the mixture into which they must be 
dipped. Put two or three tablespoonfuls of flour into a basin, into this mix two 
yolks of eggs, a little salt, a little beer, and as much water as will leave the paste 
rather thick. It must be thick enough to remain on the slices of apple when they 
are dipped into it. The beer is intended to raise the mixture a little instead 
of yeast. When all the ingredients are well mixed, add the two whites of egg. 
The fritters are improved by soaking the slices in rum and powdered sugar some 
time before being used. The fat must be very hot. Dip each slice into the paste 
and plunge in the boiling fat until the pot is conveniently filled. When well 
browned take them out, sprinkle with sugar, and serve piled up on a dish. 

Another favourite sweet dish is called beignets souffles, which may be translated 
* hollow ’ or ‘ blown-up ’ fritters. Put some water into a saucepan, about a pint, 
with an ounce of butter, the same of sugar, a little salt and some lemon peel rubbed 




FRENCH RECIPES. 


379 


off with sugar. When the water boils, throw in with one hand, by degrees, enough 
of flour to make a thick paste, and keep stirring with the other hand, so as to 
prevent it sticking to the saucepan. This paste must be well cooked in order to 
be light; it takes about half-an-hour. Take it off the fire, keep stirring for a 
while, and allow it to cool a little. Break an egg into it, and stir well, so as to mix 
thoroughly, then another, and so on until four eggs are put in, taking care to stir 
well after adding each egg. Leave the mixture to get cold, if possible, for an hour 
or two. When the fat boils, take a piece of dough about the size of a nut, throw it 
in, and continue this until the surface of the fat is half covered. These balls swell 
very much, while the interior is empty. They must be turned, so as to be browned 
all over, as they swim on the surface. Drain before serving and sprinkle with 
sugar. They may be eaten with preserves of any kind. If liked, custard or jam 
may be put inside after they are cold. 

We are tempted to give another useful recipe here. It is not a French one, 
but is of American origin, if our memory does not deceive us, and is for a kind of 
biscuit called 


1 Dough Nuts.’ 

They are something like the cracknels made by biscuit manufacturers, and ought 
to be quite dry. The materials are i lb. flour, \ lb. sugar, 2 eggs, half teaspoonful 
carbonate of soda. Have ready in a pot boiling 1^ lb. lard. We give this recipe 
as we received it, but it will be understood that, for those already provided with a 
pot of fat for the uses we have described, a separate one is not necessary. Mix 
the carbonate of soda in the flour, add the other ingredients, and mix all with 
buttermilk to a not too stiff paste. Pinch off pieces, throw them into the lard, 
when after a little they will rise to the top. Allow them to get brown. Sour milk 
may be used instead of buttermilk, but it does not make the biscuits so light. 

In concluding these directions, we beg to remind the cook that when the fat is 
already hot, pieces of cold puddings of any kind, solid enough to keep together, 
may be made to go farther by being dipped into paste, and put into it. 





380 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


SALADS IN FRENCH COOKERY. 

There is nothing, perhaps, more marked in the difference between French and 
English cookery than the proportion of salads which a French cook, as compared 
with an English one, will send to table during a given time, we may even say 
all the year round. At an English table a salad appears only now and then, or, if 
lettuce be eaten continuously during the season, it is rarely dressed, whereas at a 
French table the dressed salad is an article of almost daily consumption. By 
dressed, we mean mixed with vinegar and oil besides the condiments used for 
seasoning. It is astonishing to what extent in England the prejudice exists against 
oil as an article of food. How common it is to hear some one say, £ I cannot 
digest oil in a salad, I am obliged to mix it with cream instead.’ We are not 
prepared to say which of the two, cream or oil, is, according to chemical analysis, 
the more digestible, but we can testify, both from hearsay and experience, that 
good oil, even in cases of weak digestion, has been found to be both nourishing and 
beneficial. We have, however, succeeded in converting some English friends to 
our ideas about the advantages of oil in salads. 

A lady who had never tasted oil, and who imagined that she could not digest it, 
while living abroad during a very hot summer, enjoyed a mixed salad nearly every 
day as she enjoyed nothing else, and felt greatly benefited by it. Another lady we 
have heard say that, being rather dyspeptic, the first time she partook of a mixed 
salad at supper, it was with apprehensions of troubled slumbers and bad dreams. 
To her surprise, no unpleasant effects ensued, and so she continued, year after year, 
to enjoy the salad as often as it appeared at table, which was at least three or four 
times a week. 

We hear and read much nowadays about the advantageous effects of vegetables 
upon bodily health. In diseases of the blood, such as rheumatism, gout, &c., as 
well as in skin-diseases, the judicious use of vegetables is allowed to be highly 
beneficial. With reference to this, it is well to keep in mind that in a salad all the 
natural juices of the vegetables are retained, and nothing is lost, as in the boiling of 
them. The lettuce is so pre-eminently the plant used for salad, that among French 
speaking people it rarely gets its generic name, laitue , but is generally called salade. 
As compared with our own country, the consumption of lettuce in some Continental 
countries is enormous. Perhaps the difference in climate may partly account for 
this, the greater heat in those countries causing a natural craving for cooling food, 
or it may be that the lettuce growing more rapidly in a warmer climate, is more 
tender and succulent than it is with us, and therefore more inviting as an article of 
food. Whatever be the reason, the fact of its greater consumption abroad is 
noticeable, for even the poorest housewife would think herself badly off if she could 
not buy a pennyworth of salade to give a zest to the daily meal. 

The early spring and long-continued fine weather allows the lettuce to be eaten 
in France and some other countries during six months in the year. Even at the 
end of October we see fields planted out with young lettuce. For those who can 
afford the expense, it may be procured during the rest of the year, as it is even 




SALADS IN FRENCH COOKERY, 


381 


grown under glass in winter. A French cook will, however, as we have said, find 
something all the year round with which to make a salad. We may enumerate 
tomatoes, cress, mustard, watercresses, endive, purslane—a plant little known in 
England, but much used in French cookery—and even the humble dandelion. All 
these may be eaten raw, but salads in winter may be also made of cooked vegetables, 
and these may be varied according to pleasure. 

The best kind of lettuce for salad is the cabbage of any close variety, as 
the white or yellow leaves inside are crisp and delicate, and therefore much prized 
by lovers of salad. Lettuce growers often tie up the plants for the purpose of 
blanching the leaves. To make a good salad the leaves must be well washed and 
pulled to pieces with the fingers (never cut with a knife), and then drained by being 
swung some time either in a wire basket or in a coarse towel. The sauce for 
mixing may be varied according to taste and resources, but may in general be 
specified as consisting of three or four parts of oil to one of vinegar, with salt, 
pepper, and, if liked, a little mustard. 

For an extra good sauce we give the following recipe:—Take the yolk of 
a hard-boiled egg, along with the yolk of a raw one; put them on a plate; begin 
mixing with a wooden spoon (always turning in the same direction), adding a little 
salt, pepper, and made mustard, and then put in three or four tablespoonfuls of oil, 
drop by drop, or at least as slowly as possible, varying with vinegar, one spoonful of 
which is usually considered sufficient. We have often seen a glass of claret put in 
instead of vinegar, to the great improvement of the mixture. If always turned in 
the same direction it will be, when finished, a kind of mayonnaise , and must after¬ 
wards be well incorporated with the salad by means of a fork and spoon. The 
white of the hard-boiled egg should be cut in small pieces, and put into the bowl 
along with the leaves before the mixture is added. The proportions of oil and 
vinegar may be varied according to taste, and any particular flavour may be given 
by a sprinkling of young onions, or mustard and cress, tarragon, &c. 

Salad-mixing has been called an art. Be that as it may, it is certain that no 
two persons ever succeed in producing exactly the same flavour; and any one who 
has acquired a reputation as a salad-mixer will always be called upon to display his 
skill as occasion occurs. Due proportions being taken, the great secret of making 
a good salad is to stir the mixture well. In connection with this there is a well- 
known saying, which may be translated thus : ‘ For a salad a spendthrift should put 
in the oil, a miser the vinegar, a wise man the seasoning, and at last a madman 
should mix all together.’ The madman’s part, we suppose, indicates the amount of 
turning and mixing required. The salad mixture, with eggs in it, which we have 
described, may be thought too expensive for daily use ; but it is of itself satisfying, 
and may be eaten with nothing else but bread-and-butter. If used with cold meat, 
it will not only give a relish to it, but will make it go much further. Oil and 
vinegar without eggs will, however, make a very good salad mixture. In hot 
weather the mere appearance of the fresh green leaves often provokes appetite 
where none exists. It must be kept in mind that where the appearance of the 
salad is a consideration, the mixture must not be added until it is required to 
be eaten, as the leaves very soon get soft after the operation of mixing. The salad, 
however, loses nothing in flavour and wholesomeness by being mixed a little while 
before it is brought to table. 

French cooks generally serve salad at luncheon or supper along with cold meat, 




382 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR ROOK. 


but at a dinner of any pretensions it always forms one of the courses, served with 
roast fowl or game, or, failing these, with ham, pressed meat, lobsters, &c. It is 
considered the correct thing to serve with fowl, but it gives a relish to almost any 
dish. 

Those who can command a supply of fresh ripe tomatoes need never be at a loss 
for an excellent salad. We are convinced that few are aware how delicious tomatoes 
are when eaten raw in this manner. After the lapse of many years we have still an 
agreeable recollection of the taste of a tomato salad made by a gourmet, but we regret 
to be unable to give the exact recipe for the sauce with which it was mixed. All that 
we remember is, that the salad-mixer used claret as well as oil, and that he certainly 
did not hurry over the preparation. When finished, however, all at table declared 
that the time had not been lost, and that it was indeed a ‘ dainty dish.’ 

When lettuce becomes scarce towards the beginning of winter, it is often 
replaced, at a French table, by endive as a salad. It is a little harder than the 
lettuce, but is also generally liked. A French cook will even make an appetising 
salad with the remains of cold boiled vegetables. These are good eaten cold, 
mixed with the sauce we have described; but we think they are better as generally 
served, that is, warmed up before the mixture is added, and served hot. The 
foundation of these salads is generally potatoes, and one of the best is potatoes with 
a mixture of either green French beans or white haricot beans. It is understood 
that these vegetables must have been previously cooked. In this way a salad may 
be as varied as there are vegetables to choose from, and no good cook will ever 
throw away any cold vegetables left from dinner which may thus be warmed up for 
supper. 

It must not be forgotten that to make a good salad both the oil and the vinegar 
should be of the best quality, and that the mixing ought to be done with a wooden 
or horn fork and spoon. For the vinegar, any which has contained pickles may be 
used, if its particular flavour is not objected to. 

In our remarks about the wholesomeness of a salad, we omitted to mention that 
the oil in it not only promotes digestion, but is in itself nourishing food, while the 
dash of vinegar supplies that appetising sharpness which gives a relish to whatever is 
eaten along with the salad. 


SOME FRENCH DISHES. 

At a French table it is generally considered necessary to have more than one dish ; an 
Englishman can dine off a joint or beef-steak with potatoes, a Frenchman must have 
a second course, with a second dish of vegetables. Soup of some kind is also 
indispensable, even at the poorest table. We lately heard some Frenchmen who 
had paid a visit to England complain of not having had enough to eat at dinner 
while there. On being asked why they did not satisfy their appetite with the joint 
or dish which was served, they replied, ‘ Oh, but we could not eat so much of the 
same thing ! ’ It is possible that at a French table the total quantity of eatables 
does not exceed that served at an English one, for in the one case as much will be 
put on the table at once as is sometimes spread over two or three courses in the 




SOME PREACH DISHES. 


385 


other. How would it suit a hungry Englishman to have potatoes simply boiled in 
their skins served with a little butter, as one course ? We can imagine him wishing 
to have the dish which followed, whatever it was, served along with the potatoes. 
It is true that when we have seen potatoes thus served it was on a Friday, a maigre 
or meagre day, and the next course was either fish or eggs. We have partaken 
of a dinner composed of twelve courses, all light unsatisfactory dishes, so far 
as the appetite was concerned. No joint or any substantial piece of meat 
appeared, and the bill of fare was entirely composed of ‘ tit-bits.’ We presume 
that such a dinner is sometimes lengthened out for the sake of the conversation 
at table, ‘ the feast of reason and the flow of soul ’ which ensue, for we have 
noticed that on such an occasion the servants were enjoined not to serve too 
quickly at table, that is, not to bring in too hurriedly the different courses. It 
may be also that the length of the entertainment may be an excuse for drinking so 
many kinds of wine at various stages of the dinner. In justice, however, to our 
Continental neighbours, we must allow that, in spite of the quantity of wine 
consumed, no one ever appears to have passed the bounds of sobriety and 
moderation. Let those explain this who can ; we can only suppose, from the 
nature of the wines, or from their being taken along with solid food, that they 
produce no visibly bad effects. 

It will be seen from our remarks that French cooks study variety rather than 
quantity in the composition of a meal, and we suppose this idea has occasioned 
the great difference between English and French cookery, in so far that French 
cooks have invented a host of light made-up dishes which serve to lengthen out a 
repast. As we shall afterwards see, some of these are only vegetables cooked in 
an elaborate fashion. One of the faults found by foreigners with English cookery 
is, that we serve all our vegetables simply boiled in water. They do not seem to 
understand that we may prefer the peculiar flavour of the vegetables instead of 
having it completely disguised by accompanying sauces, sometimes, we may even 
say, totally lost in them. We lately heard two English ladies abroad compare 
notes. One asked the other, ‘ Do you know what I particularly asked to have at 
dinner to-day, as a treat?’ The other replied, ‘No, but I also asked to have 
something nice; guess what it was! ’ They had both asked to have potatoes 
simply boiled in water, as a welcome change from the usual method of serving them. 

We now give a few of the dishes most commonly used in French cookery to 
form one or other of the different courses at table. A favourite one is what is 
called a vol-au-vent. This is a case made of light puff-paste about the size of a 
Melton Mowbray pork-pie. It is generally procured ready-made at the pastry¬ 
cook’s, and filled with different preparations. The most popular is fowl cut into 
small pieces, along with a white sauce and little balls of forcemeat, hard-boiled 
eggs, mushrooms, &c. It is often filled with mushrooms alone. The contents 
must be thoroughly cooked before being put into the case, and all must be served 
hot. We give the following recipe for cooking the mushrooms : Peel and throw 
them into water mixed with a little vinegar. This prevents them from turning 
black. Put them for a few minutes into boiling water slightly salted. Drain and 
put them back into the saucepan with butter, salt, and pepper, shake them well,, 
add a little flour, and stock or cream, and let them simmer slowly for half an hour. 
The sauce may be thickened by adding a yolk of egg beat up with a little water. 
Take the saucepan off the fire, to prevent curdling, and stir in the egg until the 



384 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


sauce thickens. These mushrooms may be either put into the case we have 
described, or served either on buttered toast or bread fried in butter. 

Another favourite dish is macaroni, which is thus prepared: Take about half a 
pound of macaroni to nearly a quart of water or stock. When the liquid boils, put 
in the macaroni, broken into small bits, with a little pepper; cover, and let it 
simmer. When it becomes soft, and all the liquid is absorbed, put in half a pound 
of grated cheese and a bit of butter. Shake the saucepan, and do not stir the 
macaroni in any way so as to break it. The cheese generally used contains salt 
enough for the dish, but if desired highly flavoured, salt may be added, and even a 
little mustard. Macaroni au gratin is prepared first as directed above. Then 
butter a dish which may be put in the oven, sprinkle with bread-crumbs, and put in 
the oven from half an hour to an hour. The top should be browned. Serve in 
the dish in which it has been cooked. This excellent and satisfying dish may be 
rendered still more appetising by adding a little minced ham and an egg. It is 
then, in fact, a savoury pudding, and those who like it rarely feel disposed to 
partake of any other course. The stock may be replaced by milk or Liebig’s 
extract of meat diluted with water. The bread-crumbs used by French cooks, as 
we have already stated, are those of toasted bread or a kind of rusk. Where 
economy is studied, this dish of itself makes a good dinner without any other 
course of meat. The cheese generally used is Gruyere and a little Parmesan, 
but there is no reason why any good English or American cheese should not serve 
the purpose as well. 

As to the vegetables which are served alone, the most common is cauliflower, 
with a simple white sauce corresponding to our melted butter. It is always cut 
into little branches, and the stalk is peeled before being boiled. It is generally 
seasoned with nutmeg, but we advise the cook to be sparing of that spice for 
English palates. Arranged more elaborately with butter and bread-crumbs, it is 
called choufieur au gratin. The cauliflower is first boiled, then put into a buttered 
dish, covered with little bits of butter, sprinkled with bread-crumbs on the top, 
seasoned with nutmeg, and browned in the oven. The same may be mixed with 
grated cheese, exactly as we have described for the macaroni. A little water or 
stock may be put in to keep it moist. 

Some other vegetables are often served alone, such as green peas at the 
beginning of the season, French beans, asparagus, &c. The last mentioned is 
generally served as a separate course in the following manner: Hard-boiled eggs 
cut in two are put on a separate dish, and minced parsley on another. The sauce, 
also served separately, is simply oiled butter, and each person mixes the egg, 
parsley, and butter on his plate, and seasons the mixture according to his taste. 
Served in this way, asparagus forms a satisfying part of a dinner. 

A most elaborate dish, which is considered a great treat, is called tHe de veau en 
tortue. So many different things enter into its composition that we are almost 
afraid to give the recipe, lest it be considered not at all a practical one. However, 
as it is always possible to simplify a recipe according to the resources and taste of 
the cook, we give one here, premising that the foundation of the dish is a calf s head 
boiled and cut into small pieces. The sauce is made by browning some ham in a 
saucepan, then adding stock or gravy and a bunch of herbs; let it boil for two hours. 
Afterwards add tomato sauce, a little Madeira wine, very little salt, on account of 
the ham, but plenty of pepper, as this is supposed to be a highly-seasoned dish. 




GERMAN COOKERY, 


385 


A little cayenne may be added. Mushrooms, truffles, balls of forcemeat, pickled 
gherkins, hard-boiled eggs ; such are some of the numerous ingredients of this 
heterogeneous dish. Several given in the recipe we omit, such as cocks’ combs, 
crayfish, brains, &c. Let all cook together, and when sufficiently done take out the 
ham, put in the pieces of calfs head, and boil for a few minutes. The little balls 
of forcemeat are made from the brains, along with bread-crumbs. The sauce is 
generally of a red colour, owing to the tomatoes, but the dish may also be served 
with a white sauce. If desired, it may be thickened with a little flour. As we have 
already remarked, the cook may select from the recipe given, but this dish is con¬ 
sidered all the better the more numerous the ingredients are which are put into it. 

A very pretty little dish often presented at French tables is ramikins. The 
name is to be seen in English cookery-books, with various recipes for its preparation, 
but the dish itself is seldom seen at English tables. The best we have tasted are 
made from grated cheese, mixed with a white sauce and yolk of egg. This mixture 
must be thick enough to remain on slices of buttered toast. The whites of the eggs 
are beat into a froth, put on the top, and then the slices are either set in the oven 
or in the convenient pot of fat, th z/rilure. 

We conclude by giving a recipe for potted calfs liver, which is often 
served as a separate course with salad, and which is an exceedingly convenient 
preparation, as when properly made it will keep for several weeks. Take the half 
of a calfs liver, about a pound of unsalted pork fat, three or four bay leaves, pepper, 
salt, and, if liked, an onion. Put all into a saucepan with water enough to cover, 
and cook gently until very little water remains. Then pass through a colander, 
afterwards put into an earthenware dish, and bake in the oven for an hour. Next 
day cover with melted fat, and set in a cool place at least for a week before using. 
When made with truffles, this potted meat cannot be distinguished from the famed 
pdte de foie gras which is said to be made from goose’s liver. We suspect that 
much that is sold as made from calfs liver is made from pig’s liver, and we give 
this as a hint to those who cure their own bacon. This potted meat may be made 
richer by the addition of bread-crumbs and eggs, but will not then keep so long. It 
is often eaten on bread and butter. 

PcLt'e lih)re (potted hare), and pdte de chevreuil (potted venison), are made in the 
same way, but these meats being very dry, a little butter is generally added to the 
mixture to keep it sufficiently moist. A glass of port or claret is considered a great 
improvement. 


GERMAN COOKERY. 

4 Ein Vogel in der Schiissel ist besser als zehn in der Luft ’ (One bird in the dish is 
better than ten in the air). This is the German rendering of the proverb, ‘ A bird 
in the hand is worth two in the bush.’ The proverbs of a country are said to be 
characteristic of its people, but we should certainly do the Germans a great injustice 
if we took this one literally, for they are particularly fond of ‘ birds in the air,’ 
though they are by no means indifferent to them on dishes. As a matter of fact, 
the Germans are large eaters, especially in some parts of Germany. I have often 
been astonished at a table d’hote to see the quantity of meat consumed. 

Judged by the English standard of manners, they eat very inelegantly. A German 

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386 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


friend who had been in England some years, and had returned from a visit in 
Germany, remarked to me that the way in which her countrymen used their knives 
at table made her shudder; the way of eating with the fork in the right hand is very 
ugly to us. 

When a German girl leaves school her domestic education commences. Girls 
learn to weave in most parts of Germany ; they also go regularly into the kitchen, 
and go through all the routine of the work, the management of the stove, cleaning 
pots and pans, and everything. A German lady told me that when she was learning 
she even had to kill the pigeons and poultry; the result of this training is that they 
are good cooks and thrifty managers. 

German girls generally marry at an earlier age than English girls. When 
married, the greater part of each morning is spent in the kitchen. It is very 
seldom that the cooking of the dinner in a middle-class household is not personally 
superintended by the mistress. The dinner hour varies in different parts of 
Germany from one to three o’clock ; it is the meal of the day. The supper is not 
so heavy. 

I should be sorry to say anything against girls being domesticated, but when I 
am in Germany one thing always strikes me very forcibly—that is, that the German 
ladies do so much more than they need in their houses. They seem to lack what I 
consider a greater gift than the ability to do things themselves—that is, the Capa¬ 
bility of directing and teaching others. It is no doubt a very excellent thing for 
girls to learn cooking practically, but, having learnt themselves, they should next 
study how to impart their knowledge to others. There is no reason why a lady 
whose income enables her to keep servants should spend her time in cooking. If 
she learns very thoroughly herself, she will find that most servants will be able to 
follow her directions. When I hear any one say, ‘ I was obliged to make it myself, 
my servant is so stupid,’ I am inclined to wonder whether the fault has been in the 
careless, impatient way in which the directions have been given. I admit it is 
often less trouble to do a thing oneself, but my readers must not lose sight of the 
fact that in teaching another they are conferring a benefit, and also leaving them¬ 
selves more time for the cultivation of their minds. I know a German family 
where the husband, a well-read man, plays and sings, and entertains his friends. 
The wife is a woman of fair ability, but her accomplishments are somewhat less than 
when she left school, her time since having been devoted entirely to household 
matters; her whole conversation is of domestic affairs. Her husband has a good 
housekeeper certainly, but no companion. 

This I can assure my readers is not at all an exceptional case in Germany. 
Throughout Germany the markets are very good. Ladies do their own marketing, 
taking a servant with them to carry home the provisions. 

As in France, the vegetables and fruits are prepared for use; even apples can 
be bought ready chopped. Certainly poultry is often brought to market alive. I 
must say I found myself at fault once when I was shown some chickens in a coop, 
and asked which I would have. It requires experience to judge of fowls in their 
feathers. 

With regard to the arrangements for dinner, I have frequently found Germans 
much more fertile in expedients than English people. I will give you an instance, 
when, I am sure, had we been in England we should not have fared as well. I was 
travelling with a friend, and we were caught in a thunderstorm on the Lowenberg 




GERMAN COOKERY. 


337 


(one of the ‘ Seven Mountains ’). There is a little inn on the way up, at which we 
found shelter; and, as we were likely to be detained some hours, and had walked 
ten miles, we asked for dinner. The host said they had nothing in the house but 
some cold stewed beef, but they would do their best. The dinner was very original. 
In twenty minutes the host announced that the soup was served. We were some¬ 
what surprised to find, when the cover was removed, a tureen of new milk, cold. 
This was served in soup plates, and grated black bread (rye bread) was handed with 
it The next course was a salad of cold potatoes, then followed some stewed beef, 
then thin slices of black bread with cheese, and to finish large plates of delicious 
wild strawberries and milk. We did full justice to our dinner, and I do not know 
that I have often found things more refreshing than that milk soup. A German 
proverb says, ‘ Hunger makes raw beans into almonds.’ As a contrast, here is a 
copy of the bill of fare of a dinner ordered for two at a German hotel:— 

Clear soup, with cheese. 

Craw-fish and black bread-and-butter. 

Fillets of beef, with Madeira. 

Red cabbage, stewed apples, mashed potatoes, cutlets of fresh pork. 

Cold tongue. 

Eels in asparagus jelly. 

Hashed venison. 

Rice and young chickens, with Perigord sauce. 

Preserves, salad, and fruit ices. 

I cannot say if all the dishes were partaken of. 

The English and Russians are dinner-giving people, the Germans are not; they 
do not, therefore, require the same accommodation in their kitchens that we do. 
They can do with a much smaller one ; at the same time, I think their kitchens are 
much better arranged than ours. The cooking utensils, which are chiefly bright, are 
kept in better order than in most English houses, and with less labour. The 
kitchen itself is also better kept. 

The German living differs so essentially from the English, that without a good 
many recipes my readers will not be able to understand the difference ; but I will 
first name a few things that we are not accustomed to see—I think the most striking 
and the most disagreeable is the raw ham. A friend who was with me in Germany 
ordered some cold ham for her breakfast one morning. I shall never forget her 
look when she had put a piece in her mouth, or her horrified exclamation of, ‘ It’s 
raw ! ’ Of course she scolded the waiter, and said she wanted cooked ham, but he 
gravely replied that ham was quite spoilt by being cooked. Herrings are pickled 
and eaten without being cooked. I will give the recipe, in case any reader likes to 
try them; they are served between the courses at dinner. 

Marmirte Hdringe .—Cut open six herrings, empty them, and wash them in cold 
water, then lay them in milk for twelve hours. Wash the roes quite clean, cut them 
up, then rub them through a hair sieve; add to them four tablespoonfuls of salad- 
oil, enough vinegar to make the mixture the consistence of cream, one tablespoonful 
of capers, one tablespoonful of sliced shalots, some white pepper, and sufficient salt; 
drain the milk from the herrings and lay them in this pickle. They may be served 
in three or four hours. Herrings with soft roes must be chosen. 

Sauerkraut is a great deal eaten in Germany. I had so often heard it called 
« rotten cabbage,’ that I think prejudice would have prevented my tasting it had I 

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388 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


known what it was. I am glad I did not, for I think it very good, but, like most 
things, it requires to be well made and well cooked. The following is a recipe for 
making it, and after is one for dressing it. 

To make good Sauerkraut —Mix in a pan half a pound of salt, with three finely- 
sliced cabbages ; lay cabbage leaves over the bottom of a tub, then sprinkle a hand¬ 
ful of salt over and a handful of juniper berries; then lay the cut cabbage in 
layers, pressing it down each time and sprinkling now and then a handful of juniper 
berries between, until the tub is full, the top layer being cabbage; then fasten all 
down tightly. After eight days, pour off the brown liquor, and, if you wish the 
kraut to be very good and to keep well, pour over it a bottle of red wine. In a day 
or two it will be ready for use. 

Sauerkraut to Cook .—Put sufficient sauerkraut to make a dish into an earthen¬ 
ware stewpan with hot water, boil it four or five hours, fill up the pan with water as 
it evaporates; when quite tender, drain it. Put in a stewpan four ounces of goose 
fat or butter, cut a small onion very fine, cook it in the fat until tender; add a 
spoonful of flour. If you have some liquor in which salt meat has been boiled, add 
a quarter of a pint to it, stir it, and then put the cooked sauerkraut into it with a 
little salt. Just before serving, stir in another spoonful of goose fat or butter; 
serve very hot. Sauerkraut does very well to serve with plain mutton or pork cutlets. 

Fruits preserved with sugar and vinegar are very much eaten with baked meat. 
Here is a recipe for preserving cherries, as they are eaten with roast beef and other 
meats. 

Eingemachte Kirschen .—Morelia cherries are the best for this, but if you cannot 
get them use the common red cherries. Cut the stalks of four pounds of fresh 
cherries, leaving just enough to hold them by; lay them in a clean stone jar; pour 
over them two pints of good wine vinegar; let them stand three hours ; then drain 
off the vinegar, and put it into a stewpan, with two pints more, three pounds of 
white sugar, two ounces of cinnamon, twelve cloves, the rind of a lemon or, better 
still, of an orange ; boil it down to three pints, skimming it well as it boils. When 
done, pour it into a pan to cool; when nearly cold, pour it over the cherrjes in the 
jar, then tie them down. Plums and greengages are preserved in the same way. 
Cranberries, prunes, and apples are also stewed with sugar, and served with different 
meats. The custom seems strange to us at first; one is inclined to refuse cherries 
with beef in Germany, and come home and eat apples with pork or goose. The 
fruit is always put on a little plate by the side of the meat plate. 

In parts of Germany fresh-water fish is veiy plentiful. The Hecht (pike) is often 
the sign of an inn. Carp, eels, trout, and craw-fish are much eaten; anchovies are 
used a great deal in sauces and made dishes. The German soups are good, 
superior to French. I have translated the recipes for two ; I have chosen them as 
being very different from our soups, and easy to make. 

Kartoffelsuppe (Potato Soup).—Eighteen peeled and medium-sized potatoes cut 
in quarters : have a pint of boiling water in an iron saucepan ; put the potatoes in it 
with a head of celery. When the potatoes are done, take out the celery, stir them 
until you have like a thick broth, then stir broth or boiling water in until you have 
two quarts of soup in the saucepan. Put three ounces of butter in a frying-pan, 
with a finely-chopped onion and two tablespoonfuls of flour; fry to a gold colour, 
put in a basin, pour some of the soup on it, then stir it into the soup; boil a quarter 
of an hour. When it is time to serve the soup fry some very thin slices of roll in 




GERMAN COOKERY. 


389 


fresh butter; they must only be just coloured; lay them in a warm napkin near the 
fire. Grate a little nutmeg into the soup tureen ; put a very thin slice of garlic in 
it, also four tablespoonfuls of sweet cream; stir the soup into the tureen. Just 
before it is put on table, turn the slices of fried bread into it. 

Lebersuppe (Liver Soup).—Cut a quarter of a pound of bacon into small pieces, 
put in an earthenware stewpan, let it cook five minutes, then add a finely-sliced 
onion, cover the stewpan, let it cook five minutes more, then add half a pound of 
finely-chopped liver, a sliced carrot, a finely-chopped head of celery, and a little 
pepper; cover and let cook for twenty minutes, then add gradually three pints of 
hot water or broth, and the crumb of a milk roll. Let the soup stew until all is 
quite soft; rub through a sieve, put back in the stewpan, and boil it up. Fry some 
thin slices of bread in butter, put them in the soup tureen, pour the soup over them 
and serve. 

In Germany beef is served every day at dinner, sometimes boiled, sometimes 
stewed or roast. I have a recipe out of a German book for beef in the English way; 
the author recommends it as being a very good dish. I have never tried it, and do 
not think it would be a success, but I will give it to my readers as a curiosity. I do 
not suppose they have ever tasted ‘ Beef in the English way.’ Take twelve pounds 
of beef, beat it well, and keep it many days in a cold place covered with chopped 
parsley, lemon-peel, shalots, cloves, salt and pepper; rub the beef every day with 
the mixture, sticking a sharp knife through it in different places. When it has been 
long enough in the pickle, cover it with buttered paper, and roast it before the fire, 
basting it well with its own fat. 

Germans excel in milk puddings— Mehlspeisen. When I am in Germany I 
invariably order one for supper. Not only are the puddings good, but the sauce 
which is put over them is delicious. I will give a recipe, and I hope some of the 
readers of The GirFs Own Indoor Book will try it. It is called— 

Sago Auflauf. —Wash half a pound of sago three times in boiling water, then 
boil it in milk till it is quite soft and the milk quite thick, then let it cool; beat the 
yolks of ten eggs, with a quarter of a pound of butter and a quarter of a pound of 
sugar that has been rubbed on a lemon and then pounded; add the sago; then 
beat the whites of eight eggs to a stiff froth, stir them into the sago, put into a 
buttered mould, bake slowly. When done it may be served as it is, or turned out 
gently and the following sauce poured over it. 

Wine Sauce. —Mix half a tumbler of white wine with the yolks of four eggs and 
two tablespoonfuls of sugar; whisk briskly in a saucepan until it thickens. If boiled 
it is spoilt. 

German recipes are generally for rather large dishes ; half the quantities, both for 
pudding and sauce, would be quite sufficient for an ordinary dish. 

These Mehlspeisen are more extravagant here than in Germany, where eggs 
are much more plentiful. , 

A German pastor, whose family consists of himself, his wife, and one servant, 
told me a few weeks ago that he received four hundred eggs a year from his 
parishioners, that he kept fowls himself, and, in addition, he generally bought about 
eight hundred more eggs each year. The greater part of his stipend, which is very 
small, he receives in produce, and he said that in the summer, when eggs were 
cheap, they lived on them principally, with the produce of their garden and dairy. 
The Germans preserve eggs in various ways. 




39 ° 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK: 


In most German hotels so many French dishes are served that I have often 
heard people make the remark that ‘ much of the cooking was very like h rench 
cooking.’ The real German cookery I do not think at all like French cookery, nor 
do I think my readers will, if they take the recipes and the bills of fare I shall give 
them as fair examples of the dishes usually served. I may here mention that 
nearly all the recipes given in these pages are from the notes of the proprietor of a 
large hotel on the Rhine. I do not think any of them have ever been translated 
before. In most cases the proportions are given. Should our girls ever try to cook 
from foreign cookery-books, they will find a little general knowledge of cooking most 
useful, as the writers so rarely give the quantities, except in the way of saying a 
handful or three kreuzers' (coins) worth of anything. I have a German cookery- 
book which is quite useless on this account. In one recipe you are told to take a 
‘ basketful ’; in another a mark’s worth. Where prices are as different as they are 
in England and Germany, this sort of measurement is difficult to work from. 

The Germans make very good cakes. They use sour cream a great deal both 
in soups, cakes, and other things. Cinnamon sugar, too, is much used ; it is made 
by pounding white sugar and cinnamon together, and then sifting. There is a cake 
called Sa?id-kucke?i that is eaten a great deal; it is a sort of sponge cake with butter 
in it. Cakes are made often with fresh fruit in them. I do not think them at all 
nice; the juice from the fruit spoils them. Numberless cakes are made with yeast. 
I will give you a recipe for making little rolls to eat with coffee. They are called— 

Kaffee BrodcJmi .—Take two pounds of sifted flour, put it in a dish, make a hole 
in the middle, put in two tablespoonfuls of yeast and some warm milk, make into a 
rather stiff paste; when it has risen, beat half a pound of butter, put it on the dough, 
break four eggs in one after the other, and half a pound of sifted sugar that has 
been rubbed on a lemon rind, some warm milk, and two more tablespoonfuls of 
yeast; knead all well together, make into little loaves, flour a baking sheet, put the 
rolls on it, place in a warm place for an hour or two to rise. When well risen, 
brush over with yolk of egg, and bake. 

Soup is always served at a German dinner, and Pastetchen are frequently 
served after it. I give a recipe for— 

Pastete of Raw Ham. —Take half a pound of raw ham, take off the rind, chop 
the ham with two ounces of kidney suet, very fine. Take the crumb of a roll, soften 
it in milk. Chop six shalots and three sprigs of parsley, and put them into half an 
ounce of hot butter, then add the soaked bread with one egg, the ham, and a little 
nutmeg; mix all together, then put in a mortar, pound as fine as possible, put in 
a saucepan, make hot, fill some ready-baked patty cases with the mixture, and serve. 

The patty cases for Pastetche 7 i should be rich and light pastry made with an 
egg in it. 

The following is a bill of fare for a German dinner, and after it is one for a 
supper. I will give the recipes for the different dishes that have not already been 
given:— 

Kartoffelsuppe (potato soup). 

Ochsenfieish mit Melonen (beef with melon). 

Rothkraut und Wurste (red cabbage and sausages). 

Gebratene Gans mit Kastanien gefullt (roast goose stuffed with chestnuts). 

Sago Auflauf (sago pudding). 

Ochsenfieish or Rostbraten. —Take a piece of ribs of beef, take out the bones, 





GERMAN COOKERY. 


39i 


beat it well all over, skewer it together; melt some fat in a stewpan; when it is hot 
put in the beef with an onion, pepper, salt, a carrot, and two cloves ; let it cook 
gently, turning it over from time to time until it is a nice brown colour and tender; 
then put a little stock or gravy in the stewpan and let it cook ten minutes; take out 
the beef, strain the gravy, and serve. 

Melon to serve with Beef. —Take the rind off a ripe melon, cut into pieces 
—not too thin—lay the pieces in wine vinegar, and leave them two days; on the 
third day take the pieces of melon out of the vinegar, drain them, and then place 
them one on the other. Allow one pint of vinegar and half a pound of sugar to 
each pound of melon ; put the vinegar, the juice from the melon, and the sugar 
into a stewpan, boil it fifteen minutes, keeping it skimmed, then pour it over the 
melon, and leave it twenty-four hours. Repeat this every day for four days ; on 
the fifth day put into the vinegar the rind of a lemon, six cloves, and a stick of 
cinnamon; boil again fifteen minutes, skim, take out the peel and spice, and lay 
the pieces of melon gently in the vinegar; let it boil until the vinegar is tolerably 
thick, then put it into glass jars. When cold, tie over. 

Red Cabbage. —Take the leaves of two red cabbages, place them one on the top 
of another, cut them as fine as possible—the finer the better. Put one ounce of 
butter in a stewpan with a chopped onion, leave it to cook for five minutes, put a 
wineglassful of vinegar over the cut cabbage and mix it well, then put it into 
the stewpan with the onion and some salt and two tablespoonfuls of broth or water 3 
cover it and simmer for three hours, stirring it now and then with a fork; then add 
a small spoonful of flour, two ounces of pounded sugar, and two tablespoonfuls of 
red wine ; simmer half an hour and serve hot. 

Stuffed Goose. —The goose being prepared, take two ounces of butter, two 
tablespoonfuls of chopped shalots, and some chopped parsley, put in a stewpan to 
get hot, take from the fire and add four or five beaten-up eggs, some salt, pepper, 
and the liver of the goose, finely chopped. Have ready a pint of chestnuts that 
have been boiled quite soft and have had the outsides taken off; mix these with the 
rest of the stuffing, and put the whole into the goose; sew it up carefully, cut off 
the pinions, put the goose into a stewpan with a pint of stock, a cut onion, a carrot, 
and some salt; put on the fire, cook gently, basting the goose now and then. 
When tender, brown it with some fat, skim, strain the gravy, and serve in the dish 
with the goose. Ducks may be dressed in the same way. 

Nachtessen , or supper :— 

Lebersuppe (liver soup). 

Gefiillte Tauben (stuffed pigeons). 

Creme von Kajfee (coffee cream). 

Stuffed Pigeons. —The pigeons are not to be stuffed inside, but over the breast. 
To this end take two pigeons, and lay them in water half an hour, to loosen the 
skin, which must be separated from the flesh over the whole of the breasts. Soak 
the crumb of a roll in milk; make one ounce of fresh butter hot in a stewpan, 
throw into it three chopped shalots, some parsley, and some grated nutmeg; then 
add the soaked roll and one egg. Keep it hot on the stove a few minutes, then 
stuff the pigeons with it, carefully sew them up, lay them in boiling water for five 
minutes, take them out to cool. An hour and a half before they are wanted put two 
ounces of butter, a chopped onion, a sliced carrot, and the livers, hearts, and 
gizzards in a stewpan. When all is hot, lay in the pigeons, breasts down, on the 



392 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


onion; sprinkle with salt. When the pigeons are brown, turn them, but be careful 
not to injure the skin by using a fork ; finish with the breasts up. When the 
pigeons are brown add a little stock to them, stew very gently until tender, dish up 
with the livers and gizzards round, pass the gravy through a sieve, serve a little over 
the pigeons, and the rest separately. 

Coffee Cream .—Take a pint and a half of milk, boil it ten minutes, then throw 
into it three ounces of freshly-roasted whole coffee; cover it well, and keep it hot 
for an hour, when it should have the flavour of the coffee. Beat well the yolks of 
six eggs, with three ounces of sugar, strain the milk to them, butter a mould well, 
pour in the mixture, stand the mould in a saucepan of hot water, stir the cream till 
it thickens (the water must be kept boiling, or it will not thicken), then stand the 
mould in cold water. Serve when cold, turned out. 

My readers will find a German dinner take longer to cook than a French. I 
shall conclude with a recipe that many will like to have ; it is for 

Mustard Mixed in the German Way .—Take half a pound of mustard and a 
tablespoonful of pounded sugar, mix to a proper consistency with tarragon vinegar, 
tie it down, and put it by for eight days; it will then be ready for use. 


ITALIAN COOKERY. 

We fear that the most partial of our friends could not yield us the palm in matters 
of the kitchen—either in skill or economy. The French are, by unanimous 
consent, supreme in both respects, and the Italians certainly rank second, having 
two invaluable points in common with them—ingenuity at making a good deal out 
of very little, and a talent—innate, one might really say—for frying. They will 
make a crisp, dry (in the sense of not greasy) frittura or frittata out of anything, 
and all, young and old, male and female, trained and untrained, can do it. That terrible 
person, ‘ a maid of all work,’ has no terrors for us in Italy, for, whatever her other 
shortcomings may be—and they will not be many—she will put before one a 
palatable meal. Indeed, much could be said in praise of the Italian serving class ; 
even the least competent invariably have good manners, are good-natured and 
sympathetic. They force one to take them more as friends than servants, yet 
very rarely would one meet with forwardness or pertness. 

The men too, of all callings, have a natural aptitude for cooking. Once the 
writer and her sister were left for a while to the tender mercies of an individual who 
here would be called a ‘ washing man ’—one who carries the linen to and from a 
laundry—in this instance his wife’s. His cookery was so excellent that curiosity as 
well as gratitude led us to ask him whether he had ever been a cook. It proved 
that he had never had a lesson, yet his skill was well known, and more than once 
he had been offered a cooks place at an hotel. In Italy the class who keep no 
servants do not seem to portion out the work of the household as it comes quite 
naturally to us to do. No doubt the men there, as elsewhere, are usually the bread¬ 
winners outside, and the women attend to the work indoors ; but in their spare 
hours the males are nothing loth to do whatever comes to hand, let it be cooking 
cleaning, washing, or looking after the babies. In this last occupation they excel 




ITALIAN COOKERY. 


393 


and on the Sundays and festa days it is quite the exception to see the wife carrying 
the baby, or even leading young children by the hand. Indeed, in all classes, babbo 
(papa) is far oftener on the lips of the little ones than mamma. 

rhe fnttata and fnttura above alluded to are generally cooked in oil, butter and 
lard being very sparingly used in Italian cookery. It also frequently substitutes 
butter in pastry—not sweet pastry—but for patties or pies, and particularly for crust 
for frying. A tablespoonful, or even a little less, of olive oil rubbed into a half 
pound of flour will make a very excellent crust, and in these days of expensive 
butter it is an idea worth imitating. Our dislike to the notion, particularly for 
frying purposes, is in truth only prejudice. If the oil is sweet and the fry properly 
drained, even a delicate palate would find it difficult to distinguish the difference of 
flavour. Omelets—also called frittate —are much eaten, and what we should call 
an economical omelet, in the hands of a skilful frier, is an invaluable aid to any 
meal, and can be prepared in a few minutes. Two eggs are sufficient—one even 
will do—the rest is made of flour, a little milk, and the requisite flavouring of chopped 
parsley or any other herb, or minced ham, if at hand. Frequently artichokes cut in 
six pieces, with the choke removed, are fried in with the egg mixture, and make a 
very nice dish. 

Perhaps no one—unless, indeed, she has mixed a good deal with the poor of 
various countries—can quite realise of what inestimable value an aptitude and 
general intelligence for cooking, or a little cultivation in the art, is. It conduces to 
a wholesome, even refined taste among a set who in England would be boors with 
a coarse taste and no palate to speak of. And it does more than that: the difference 
between good and ill cooking to the wearied bread-winner helps to make or mar 
the peace of many a household; and no woman, whatever her class, whatever 
her calling, should forget how much is, in this respect, in her hands. 

The institution in a saving household called ‘ hot pot ’ is nearly unknown in 
Italy. The frying-pan takes the place of the ‘ pot/ and pieces of meat, bones, 
cold vegetables, slices of stale bread, everything that there may be, fried all together 
make a dish that generally ends the day, and which few would find unsavoury. 
Poultry is also fried sometimes, the chicken being of course limbed and the body 
cut in suitable-sized pieces. In the Italian markets one can buy half a chicken or 
even one piece, a leg or a wing, if one wishes. In many parts of Italy, however, 
the fowls are of a poor quality. Fish one does not see in great quantities, nor is it 
cheap, with the exception of red mullets, which one gets—usually stewed—to 
satiety. Soups are made out of everything and nothing, and fish soup (the recipe, 
with others, will be given at the end) is a favourite one. 

Minesti'ci or zuppa (soup) is quite a national taste, and every one—labouring 
classes included—will begin their dinner, and if possible their supper too, with a 
basin of zuppa or brodo (broth). Clear soup is very rare ; they always put in 
vegetables or some sort of pasta. This word includes rice, macaroni, vermicelli, 
and a score of other things of that class, varying in name according to shape, such as 
stelle (stars), alphabets, &c. 

Among the nobility and at all the first-rate hotels and restaurants ( trattoric ), 
French cookery is much adopted, and, strange to say, even a few thoroughly English 
dishes are much in fashion, such as beef-steak (>bifstecka , as they Italianise it) and 
roast-beef, cooked more or less as we like it, underdone. 

The national food, however, varies in the different parts of the country. In 



394 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Naples and in the South generally, macaroni forms part of almost every midday 
meal, and is largely eaten by the poor. In the Venetian States polenta takes its 
place. This is a kind of porridge, rather thicker in consistency, made from the 
flour of the Indian corn (graft Turco). It should be stiff enough to turn out, which 
is usually done, on a wooden platter. They do not touch it with a knife, but 
divide it in slices by a thread of strong cotton. It is very cheap indeed, and more 
eaten by the labouring than the wealthier classes, and where an English labourer 
would take a hunch of bread-and-cheese a Venetian one would take slices of 
pol-nta. In the Apennine districts, chestnut-flour, usually made into large flat 
cakes, is almost the sole food of the peasants; and in Florence and higher north 
beans (faginoli) are more partaken of than polenta or even macaroni. 1 hey 
boil them in, or thicken soup with them, they eat them as a vegetable, or dress 
them as a salad. Chopped parsley is generally added to them when dressed for 
salad, and eaten with fried fish. At the corners of the streets people can buy a 
pennyworth of beans—strictly, ten centimes—already cooked, as one can buy 
chestnuts here, and it is no mean allowance. Meat is not very cheap, and a pound 
of fish costs the same as a pound of meat. If one does not pay ready money, the 
custom with the butcher is to count up at the end of the time how many pounds of 
meat of all prices he has sent, and then he strikes the average. This would vary, 
according to the locality, from sixty to ninety centimes, but it must be borne in 
mind that an Italian pound’s weight is only twelve ounces. Almost everything is 
sold by the kilogram ( chilo ), which is thirty-six ounces, or three Italian pounds. 

Puddings seldom form part of an Italian dinner; fruit, which is cheap and 
plentiful, almost entirely takes their place. The word even is not in their language ; 
dolce (sweet) and pasticcieria (pastry) do duty for every sort of pudding. 

Fruit is not so good as it is here; the very best generally finds its way to other 
markets, also much of it grows with little aid excepting Nature’s own. They have 
all the varieties known in England, and a few more. Japanese medlars, a small 
yellow fruit looking something like our yellow plums, but having the stones of the 
medlar, are a very refreshing fruit; and in their season, which is often prolonged to 
the end of August, mountain strawberries are most abundant, and preferred to the 
garden ones. Their most important produce are grapes, figs, and chestnuts. In 
the Apennine districts there are miles upon miles of Spanish chestnut woods. 
In a good year they are so abundant that a considerable quantity can be stored 
to help until the next harvest of them. They are made into flour, which in its turn 
is made into cakes, more than equal to bread in nutritive powers. The general 
aspect of the inhabitants—whose chief sustenance it is—and more especially the 
appearance of the girls, is a guarantee of the excellence of this food. The water 
there too is most pure, and keeps them in good health. People live to a great age 
there, and a ridiculous story to exemplify this fact is told, of how once an old man 
verging upon three score and ten was found crying by the wayside, and, on being 
asked what ailed him, answered that his father had scolded him. The young and 
middle-aged men, however, do not as a rule look as healthy as the women, indeed, 
many of them are miserable-looking and shattered in health. The reason is that 
with the exception of the labour that the chestnuts bring there is little to do, and 
the men have to seek work elsewhere. They are in their own mountain homes 
little more than three months, the remaining time is spent in the quarries or in the 
maremma (the marshy land of Italy), the home of intermittent fever. 




ITALIAN COOKERY . 


395 


Even in the parts where food is more plentiful and more varied, the Italian 
working classes eat little. Wages are low, and the climate does not require high 
nutrition. Meat is by no means eaten daily, and they seem to thrive very well 
upon about two ounces twice a week. So long as they have their beloved zuppa , 
twopenny worth of red wine, a hunch of bread, and a helping of fagiuoli , macaroni , 
or polenta , they need scarcely anything more. This would be their midday and 
practically only meal. Coffee in the morning, for those who can afford it, and a 
little bread and fruit for supper, would be an average day of meals. In the agri¬ 
cultural districts, however, they do not fare so well. The misery there is very great. 
A franc (tenpence) a day for the men, and an occasional soldo (sou) for the women 
and children, are the average earnings of a family. 

Many of the Italian dishes are quite appreciated by us foreigners, but there is 
nevertheless much in their cookery, besides the free use of olive oil, which does not 
seem to suit the English taste. For instance, sauces are too plentifully used, and 
almost take the place of gravy. Also they give them regardless of a monotonous 
sameness of flavour. Often the soup will be flavoured with tomato, the meat will 
have tomato sauce poured over it, the rice or whatever pasta there is will be 
smothered with it, and not impossibly the salad will have one or two raw ones cut 
up into it. This last, however, is a very nice dish, and indeed needs no green 
salad addition. They can be simply peeled and cut into slices (across), and then 
dressed with oil and vinegar, &c., or they can be first scalded with hot water. 

The varieties of green salad are numerous, and make one see that many other 
kinds might with advantage be cultivated in England. Another objection to the 
sauces, particularly those which are bought and not made at home, is that they are 
too salt, and induce thirst—a thing to be avoided in that country. 

Lesso every one has heard of, and most English people grumble at the constant 
appearance of this dish upon the table; yet when well made it is very good, and 
very suitable for a hot country, more especially in the summer, when appetite for 
rich or heavy food languishes. The soup that is brought up will have been made 
of it, but great care should be taken only to boil the meat until it is tender, and 
not until it is in rags, and it is important that there should be some fat with it. It 
should, when cooked, be cut in slices (not thin), and placed in the middle of a plate 
with a little of the liquor, and surrounded by pieces of carrot, turnip, zucchini 
(something like vegetable marrows, but not bigger than a finger length, and cooked 
whole), and served separately; there should be tomato or caper sauce according 
to taste. 

Mushrooms ( funghi ) grow in enormous quantities, and so in their season are 
very cheap. They are very large, and they generally cut them up in pieces and 
stew them. Sometimes they are so large that the dish has the appearance of 
hashed mutton. Parmesan cheese may be grated over them, or chopped onion 
stewed in. The Italians are very fond of them, but, as a rule, the English find 
them too rich. 

Once we were asked by a servant girl, who came from rather an out-of-the-way 
country village, whether we liked broad beans, and, on being answered in the 
affirmative, she procured some and brought them in at dinner-time with the pleasant 
expression which she always had, rather increased by the feeling of doing some¬ 
thing which would be agreeable to us. They were uncooked, in their natural state, 
pod and all, and we were to cut them up and dress them as salad ! We made a 




396 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


worthy effort to do justice to this novel dish, but they were neither very palatable 
nor very digestible. 

The hours and meals of the upper and middle classes are as follows:—Many 
people take nothing but a cup of black coffee in their room, or even before rising; 
but they who make something of a breakfast will take cafe au lait at eight in the 
winter, and seven, or even six, in the summer, and a roll—seldom butter. They 
do not call this colazione (breakfast), but caffe. The colazione comes at eleven, or 
thereabouts, and at this meal is taken wine, a dish of meat of some light description, 
but more usually a frittata, some pasta , salad, and abundant fruit. The dinner 
is at four, five, or six, according to the season of the year—soup and two courses, 
one of which is frequently lesso ; where it is desired, a dolce as well, and then the 
usual fruit. Generally a cup of black coffee follows the dinner, which is the best 
meal of the day. They do not as a rule go to bed early, but they prefer to go to 
rest fasting. In the summer this rule is often broken by the custom of sitting out 
in the air at one of the various cafes, when a cup of coffee is partaken of, or an ice, 
or glass of lemonade, or some other such cool drink. In the beautiful long summer 
evenings even the English have to give way to the necessities of the climate and 
give up their late dinner. After the exhausting heat of the day, when windows 
have been shut tight and Venetian blinds drawn to keep the rooms even tolerably 
cool, one is forced to order the dinner at such an hour that oneself and one’s 
household can go out and breathe and enjoy from seven until bedtime out of 
doors. 

Their Christmas festivities are not marked, as ours, by roast beef, turkey, and 
plum-pudding. In some parts they have during the week a dish of stewed wild 
boar, with a sweet and sour sauce mixed with dried currants and pigjielli , the fruit 
of the pine. Pignelli are something like almonds in taste, which, cut up in small 
pieces, would make an excellent substitute. Another Christmas delicacy is 
mandolato (almond sweet), and mostarda , a hotly-flavoured conserve; but neither 
of these dishes are universal among them, as our plum-pudding, &c. 

Minestra a Pesce .—Take the liquor in which fish has been boiled, then take the 
head or some part useless for table and stew a little longer, strain it, then put 
pepper and salt, chopped onion and parsley. Add rice, boiled in another vessel, or 
slices of bread, according to taste. If taken clear, a small quantity of meat stock 
should be added. 

Riso con Piselli .—Take the liquor from the lesso. Previously boil some rice 
and a handful or two of green peas ; stir this into the liquor and boil up all together 
with salt and pepper. Serve with grated Parmesan cheese. 

Risotto .—Boil some rice with salt. When thoroughly dry place the pot over a 
clear fire and stir quickly in salt butter, partly melted, and grated cheese. When 
sufficient butter and cheese are in, a flaky substance will come up in the spoon 
while stirring. This dish often precedes the dinner in the place of soup. 

Macaroni .—The best quality of macaroni should be procured. Boil one pound 
in water, slightly salted and without any other seasoning. Drain it, and arrange it 
in a dish which can bear the heat of the fire. Sprinkle each layer with grated 
Parmesan cheese, pour in some very strong meat gravy, and cover the top with a 
thick layer of grated cheese, on which pour two ounces of tepid melted butter. 
Place the dish over the fire only long enough for the cheese to melt, and serve in 
the same dish. 




AMERICAN COOKERY. 


397 


Castrato or Montone .—Take some mutton (usually a shoulder), bone it, pare oft 
the skin, and remove some of the fat. Smooth and stretch it as much as possible. 
Sprinkle inside with salt, pepper, and chopped herbs; then roll it up and tie it. 
Put into a saucepan the bones, two carrots, two onions, and a bunch of herbs. Rub 
the rolled meat well with butter, so that it will be well browned all round, and place 
it in the saucepan. Pour over a cup of strong meat gravy and a glass of white 
wine. Cover the saucepan, and let it stay on a slow fire for two hours. When it 
is cooked, pass the gravy through a sieve, take away the fat, and add an equal 
quantity of tomato sauce. Stir this mixture over a hot fire, place the rolled mutton 
on a dish, and pour the sauce over it. If the sauce is too thin, lay the meat on 
spinach. 

Entree .—Cut some ris de vean and some marrow into small pieces, and stew in 
a good meat gravy. Boil vermicelli, and when it is sufficiently cooked to adhere 
together, pour into mould—made for the purpose—with hole in centre. Put in 
oven until it takes the shape. Turn out of mould into dish, and fill centre with 
stew. 

Cotelette .—Dip six cutlets in melted butter, then cover them with bread-crumbs, 
well seasoned with salt and pepper. Beat up six eggs, dip the cutlets into them, 
and roll the cutlets a second time in bread-crumbs mixed with Parmesan cheese. 
Fry in butter or oil until they are a good colour; arrange them upright in a circle, 
and fill the centre with macaroni dressed as above. Pour over the whole tomato 
sauce, or rich gravy mixed with half a glass of Madeira. 

Dolce .—Whip some cream flavoured with vanilla; pour into a glass dish, and 
sprinkle it with coloured confetti (sweetmeats). Hand round rolled wafer biscuits, 
such as are eaten with ices. 

Or another dolce , with custard instead of cream. Pour custard into an open 
glass dish; spread some raspberry preserve over some ‘ ladies’ fingers,’ and float 
them on the surface of the custard. 


AMERICAN COOKERY. 

Cakes and pies are commonly supposed to be the chief features of American 
cookery, but, like most sweeping assertions, this is only true to a certain extent. 
They are very fond of both, but it is only the country folk and the lower middle 
classes who indulge in these concoctions at almost every meal; the upper classes live 
very much as the upper middle classes in England, only better, for Americans are 
exceedingly fond of good living. In the country the chances are you will meet 
the inevitable pie at breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper; and you are certain to find 
an abundance of cakes of all kinds, hot and cold, for breakfast and tea. The cakes 
are always accompanied by molasses, honey, or syrup, which is poured over them, 
and eaten in large quantities; indeed, Americans are very fond of sweet things, and 
molasses and syrup are quite as popular as the pies and cakes. One of the most 
commonly-used syrups is maple syrup, made from the sugar maple, or, as it is more 
correctly called, rock maple ; this is usually eaten with hot buckwheat cakes for 
breakfast or tea. Another favourite syrup is called French honey, and is made as 




THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


39 s 

follows :—Take one pound of white sugar, six eggs, the juice of four lemons, and a 
quarter of a pound of butter; put these ingredients into a saucepan, and stir 
over a slow fire till the mixture is as thick as honey. Serve when cold. These* 
syrups are also largely eaten with milk puddings. 

Besides buckwheat cakes, waffles and griddle cakes are sure to form part of an 
American breakfast or tea. There are various kinds of waffles—hominy waffles, 
rice waffles, Indian waffles, and mixed waffles. Griddle cakes, too, can be made of 
various materials—Indian corn, rye, buckwheat, squash, or hominy: but the one 
thing needful for griddle cakes is that they be fried, and for waffles that they be 
cooked in waffle-irons, which are something like two miniature frying-pans joined 
together, into one side of which the mixture is poured, and then covered with the 
other side ; the irons are held over the fire for a minute or two, and then turned, 
and held for another minute or two ; the waffle is then cooked, and must be kept 
hot until served. Ordinary waffles are nothing more than a thin batter, with a 
little butter and a teaspoonful of cream of tartar and half a teaspoonful of soda and 
salt added, and then cooked in the above way. Some people add sugar, and butter 
them before serving. Baking powder will do as well as the cream of tartar and 
soda. To make rice or hominy waffles, add to the batter as much rice or hominy 
as you have taken of flour. Indian waffles are rather more troublesome, as you 
must first of all boil a pint of milk, then pour it on to a quarter of a pint of 
Indian meal and a tablespoonful of melted butter (by which we mean butter melted, 
not a mixture of butter and water and flour), then heat the meal thoroughly, and, when 
cold, add half a pint of flour, a little salt, two eggs, and a teaspoonful of baking 
powder. Butter the waffle-irons, heat them, and then pour in enough of the 
mixture to cover the iron, and proceed as above. 

Griddle cakes are made much in the same way, but their speciality is that they 
are fried. For hominy griddle cakes, which are very good, add a pint of milk and 
a pint of flour to a pint of warm boiled hominy; beat up two or three eggs and 
add to the mixture, then fry them, and bear in mind griddle cakes are very thin. 
Americans call sponge cakes, buns, and all small cakes, biscuits; our biscuits they 
call crackers. In travelling in America, it is well to bear this in mind, for if you 
ask for a biscuit sure as fate some home-like cake will be brought to you. 

Baltimore biscuits, for instance, as will be seen from the following recipe, are 
what we should call cakes. Take a quart of flour, and rub a quarter of a pound 
of lard well into it. (N.B. We should substitute butter for lard, but the recipe says 
lard.) Mix enough water to make a stiffish paste with this flour, first adding a little 
salt, and then beat it with a rolling-pin for half an hour, or until the dough snaps; 
break it into small pieces, roll it as thin as a wafer, prick it all over with a sharp 
fork, and then bake in a quick oven till it is the colour of a cracker, that is, of a 
biscuit. 

Hot rolls and different kinds of bread, some very nice, are also items of an 
American breakfast. Boston brown bread is very good, and here is a recipe from * 
an American lady for making it, copied verbatim :—‘Two cups of Indian meal, 
three cups of Graham flour, half a cup of white flour, one pint of sour milk, one 
half-cup molasses added to milk, one teaspoon saleratus—salt. Steam three hours 
in a tin steamer, covered tight. Don’t let the water stop boiling. Make quite thin. 

If one pint of milk is not enough, add a little more.’ 

Before we leave the subject of cakes, we will give a recipe for Hartford election 



AMERICAN COOKERY. 


399 


cake, from a Hartford lady; a cake evidently not lightly to be made—we mean not 
to be slurred over, though it is to be made lightly, for it is a work that cannot 
adequately be accomplished in one day. It must be begun, so says our recipe, 
early in the afternoon; the hour is not mentioned, so that may, presumably, 
be left to the convenience of the cook; all that is necessary is that ‘ by ten o’clock 
the next day, possibly later,’ the cake be light enough to add the rest of the 
ingredients. For on the first day you must take four pounds of flour, half a pint 
of yeast, a pint of milk just warm, and part of the shortening. You will require two 
pounds of shortening in all, half butter and half lard. Mix the above ingredients 
thoroughly, work them in a bread pan, cover them up, and set them in a warm 
place to rise. At ten the next morning, or ‘ possibly later,’ mix in the rest of the 
shortening—five eggs, a little brandy and wine, two pounds of raisins, half a pound 
of citron, and some spices, mace, and nutmegs. Cover again, and set in a warm 
room, but not near a fire, till the next morning, and then bake in a moderate oven. 
These quantities are sufficient for five or six loaves. 

Pie in America is applied to fruit tarts as well as to meat pies. They have 
squash pies, apple pies, orange pies, lemon pies, apricot pies, chocolate pies, and 
pumpkin pies, besides many others. Pumpkin pie, we are told, when well made is 
excellent, but the excellency depends entirely on the making, and not at all on the 
pumpkin, which has no flavour of its own, but is capable of absorbing any flavour 
it pleases the cook to give it. A very good pumpkin pie can be made as follows, 
and pumpkin pie is one of the most popular of pies in America:—Take a pint of 
milk, one egg well beaten, one cup of stewed pumpkin, half a teaspoonful of ginger, 
a little salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and half a teacup of molasses, with sufficient sugar 
to make it very sweet. Mix these together, and put them into a pie-dish, cover 
with a good light crust, and bake in a moderate oven; or, if you wish to be very 
American, line a ‘ pie-plate ’ with paste, then put in the fruit, and add the top 
crust. Most American pies are made round, and in this fashion. Their meat pies 
and game pies are much the same as ours, but perhaps more spiced and flavoured, 
and fruit is often added for this purpose, which, to English taste, is not an improve¬ 
ment, but Americans have strange ideas about eating fruits or sweet things with 
meat; for instance, an American would not consider roast turkey worth the trouble 
of eating unless it were accompanied with cranberry sauce, which, after all, is no 
stranger than eating red currant jelly with hare and roast mutton, or apple sauce 
with goose or roast pork. Another popular pie in America is squash pie. A 
squash, be it known, is a fruit of the gourd kind, grown in America, indigenous to 
Massachusetts. Pumpkin might be used instead of the squash, and then the 
following recipe could be tried in this country:—Take a large pint of strained 
squash (or pumpkin), and add to it a quart of boiled milk, two cups of sugar, three 
eggs, two crackers (*>., biscuits) pounded and sifted, a few drops of lemon, half a 
teaspoonful of ginger or powdered cinnamon, and an ounce of butter melted in hot 
milk. Stir the spice and salt into the squash first, then add the biscuit and sugar; 
when these are mixed, pour in half the milk, stir well, and add the remainder, and 
lastly the eggs. Bake in a deep pie-dish, lined with crust. 

One of the first things which strikes a stranger on taking his first meal in 
America is the way in which that meal, be it what it may, is served. He will find, 
instead of having one plate put before him, he will have at least half a dozen, one usual¬ 
sized plate to eat off in the centre, and six little ones ranged round it, like planets 



400 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


revolving round their sun. One of these little plates will be just large enough for 
a tiny pat of butter, another will hold some syrup, another a griddle cake or waffle, 
another some salad, and, should the meal be breakfast, and our traveller call for 
some boiled eggs, these will be brought him, and, instead of egg-cups a glass, into 
which he is to break the eggs and mix them well up before eating them, if this 
process has not been done for him, which is highly probable. A glass of iced 
water is a regular accompaniment to every meal. 

We must not forget to mention a purely American dish, which is constantly to 
be met with, called fish-chowder; there is corn-chowder also, chowder being a kind 
of soup, but fish-chowder is the more popular. 

Skin and bone two pounds and a half of any kind of fish, boil the bones for 
ten minutes in a pint of water, slice and fry a quarter of a pound of pork and one 
large onion; cut into slices, as if for frying, a pint of potatoes ; then cook the pork 
and onion for five minutes, add a tablespoonful of flour, some salt and pepper, and 
boil for another five minutes, stirring all the time; then add to this the water in 
which the fish bones were boiled, and strain all on to the potatoes and fish ; boil 
for a quarter of an hour, then add three crackers (biscuits) and half a pint of milk— 
the crackers must be soaked in milk first; boil and serve. 

Corn-chowder is made with green corn, which, by the way, is very much used 
in American cooking for soups, puddings, cakes, bread, and entrees. Here are 
one or two recipes. 

For oyster corn-cakes, grate one dozen ears of green corn, add to it two eggs, a 
tablespoonful of flour, a quarter of a pound of butter, mix well together, and add 
plenty of salt and a little pepper; make the mixture up into cakes the size of an 
oyster, and fry brown. 

To make a green-corn pudding, grate a dozen ears of green corn, and add milk 
enough to make a thin batter; add a tablespoonful of sugar, and bake for half an 
hour. This is really the same as hasty pudding, only made with green corn instead 
of flour. A piece of butter added before baking is a great improvement. Indian 
corn, rice, hominy, cornflour, macaroni, rye, buckwheat, and oatmeal all enter 
largely into the composition of American dishes. They are fond of vegetables, and 
have various ways of cooking them, like the French. For instance, they will make 
rissoles of parsnips, and fry them in egg and bread-crumbs : stew celery, and serve 
it with cream sauce; escallop cauliflower in the same way English cooks escallop 
oysters, with Bechamel sauce and grated cheese; boil, and then mince, spinach, 
cabbage, or lettuce, and fry it in butter, season it well, and serve it garnished with 
hard-boiled eggs. Tomatoes, too, enter largely into American cooking, and, indeed, 
almost all dishes are improved by a little tomato; they are excellent escalloped, or 
broiled, or fried, or stewed, and then put into a flat dish and covered with bread¬ 
crumbs, and baked for a few minutes in a quick oven. 

A delicious dish, the recipe for which came from America, can be made with 
tomatoes in the following way :—To a pint of tomatoes, skinned and pulped, add 
a quart of macaroni swelled in water, and a pound of cold minced game, or chicken, 
or any white meat—game of course is best; season well, add a tablespoonful of 
grated cheese, a quarter of a pound of butter, a little mace; place the whole in a 
pie-dish, cover with bread crumbs, and cook in the oven till well browned; then 
serve. This is an excellent dish for luncheon, or that most difficult of meals, a tea- 
dinner. 1 omato soup is very good; indeed, the Americans are great in soups, 



SCOTCH COOKERY. 


401 


which they make of fish and vegetables as often as of meat. Clam soup is a 
common dish in America. Clam is a shell-fish, in shape like our oyster, and tins 
of clams can now be bought in England. For clam soup, take twenty-five chopped 
clams, to their liquor add two quarts of water, and boil slowly for an hour, and 
then add a quart of milk ; mix five tablespoonfuls of flour, with a good-sized piece 
of butter, and stir gently into the broth, then beat up three eggs, and add them 
carefully, or the soup will curdle, for which reason the milk must be warmed 
separately before it is added to the broth; now strain out the clams to make it 
clear, and serve at once. Pepper, salt, and a little chopped parsley should be 
added before the milk is poured into the broth. 

Black beans are often used for soup, but as few English palates are educated up 
to black beans, we do not give a recipe for it. 

There is a plant called okra, which is used a good deal in America, as well as 
in the West Indies, where it is indigenous; the fruit is contained in a green pod, 
and it is these pods which are used for cooking purposes. It is made into pickles, 
and may be bought in England. It is sometimes stewed or escalloped, but is 
best stewed with tomatoes, taking half the quantity of tomatoes that you have of 
okra, then pare and slice both; add a little pepper, salt and butter, and stew gently 
for half an hour. 

Of course okra, green corn, clams, and squash are far better when they can be 
had fresh, than the tinned specimens we get in this country; so of these purely 
American dishes it would be unfair to judge unless they were eaten in America. 


SCOTCH COOKERY. 

I am afraid that the English have but a very poor opinion of Scotch cooks and 
cookery. This may arise partly from national prejudice, English people having a 
natural tendency to look down upon anything of Scotch origin, and perhaps even 
more from the difference between the tastes of the two nations; the exigencies of 
their climate, coupled with the vicissitudes of their national and commercial life, 
having for long compelled the people of Scotland to adopt a rigidly economical 
mode of living, whereas the English, having from comparatively early times enjoyed 
those privileges from which the Scotch as a nation were so long debarred, more 
rapidly developed luxurious habits. 

Taken as a class, however, the working women of Scotland are very good cooks. 
They do not, it is true, often try their hand at fine bread, nor do they even bake 
their own loaf-bread, but the ordinary meals of the household are in general very 
well prepared. Loaf-bread is quite a recent institution, for, besides the difficulty 
they would have experienced in baking it with the limited means at their disposal, 
they had really no need for it, its place being well supplied by scones and oatmeal 
cakes or bannocks. The baking utensils of the Scotch were, until quite lately, 
a toaster and a girdle (a round, flat piece of i ron, about half an inch thick, with a 
bow-handle by which to swing it above the fire), as the grates then in use had no 
oven. 

About forty or fifty years ago the people of Scotland, old and young, almost 
without exception, began the day with a good plate or bowlful of oatmeal porridge 




402 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


with milk (a habit still kept up by the younger members of households), varied on 
Sunday by what they called a * tea breakfast/ consisting of tea, bannocks, scones, 
home-cured pork, and eggs; and, in places near the coast, of fresh herring, 
haddocks, or cod. This ‘ tea breakfast ’ was only partaken of by the older people, 
the bairns getting their porridge as usual. The only occasion on which this rule 
was broken being New Year’s morning, when the youngsters were allowed to eat as 
much as they could of good things. 

The dinner of the labouring classes generally consisted of some kind of broth, 
eaten with boiled potatoes, the very poorest making their midday meal of brose. 
At the tables of the middle classes the broth was followed by stewed mutton, 
sheep’s head, haggis, braie mutton (the cured flesh of sheep smothered in the snow), 
or some such dish, according to the means of the diner. As for dessert, it was 
undreamt of in those days, by any one except the gentry. The nearest approach 
made to it by any of the other classes was a few berries for the children when they 
were ripe. But even of them there were but few eaten in this way ; for Nature, not 
being so prodigal of her gifts to the northern as to the southern sister, the often too 
scanty supply of fruit had to be carefully husbanded, in order to provide the 
household with jelly and jam—black-currant jelly being especially prized, on 
account of its cough-curing properties. Nowadays, however, a plum-pudding 
or dish of stewed apples for dinner or supper is quite a common affair. 

I remember some years ago visiting the wife of a carter on a Forfarshire 
estate, when, after talking awhile, she said, ‘ This is Pete’s (Peter’s) birthday, an’ I 
aye mak’ a puddin’ for supper on the laddies’ birthnichts.’ Looking at the fire, 
I saw swung over it an enormous pot, remarkably like those used for boiling clothes 
in, and being told that the pudding was in it, I wondered what would be the size 
of the pudding itself, seeing it required such a pot to cook it in, and hoped that the 
family would enjoy the birthday feast. 

The supper, which was generally partaken of at half-past six, in the case of 
labourers, consisted of brose, or porridge and milk, with bannocks and cheese. 
Among the middle classes it was much the same as the dinner, with the addition of 
cheese, scones, and tea or table beer. Now most working people have tea to their 
supper. Many of them, however, make tea a separate meal, and have supper 
about nine o’clock, thus entailing upon the gudewife much unnecessary trouble. 

Perhaps the most striking point in Scotch, as compared with English cookery, 
is the difference between the broth of the one nation and the soup of the other. 
While the English put the meat, bones, and vegetables into a stock-pot, simmer 
until most of the goodness is extracted, and then strain; the Scotch put all the 
ingredients into a broth-pot, simmer until thoroughly cooked, take out the meat, 
which is eaten with potatoes, and serve the broth just as it is, without any further 
preparation, thus producing a dish quite as nourishing, and far more satisfying than 
that of their English neighbours. 

Scotch broth is often prepared without any meat at all, dripping being used 
instead, the vegetables sliced, barley, pepper and salt added, and, when nearly 
ready, a few potatoes are put in and boiled along with the broth until nicely, but 
not too much, cooked. Potatoes are oftenest added to what is called second-day’s 
broth—that is, broth left over from the previous day’s dinner and reheated—when 
the potatoes used may be either cooked or uncooked, although the latter are 
preferable, as their flavour is much finer. 




SCOTCH COOKERY. 


403 


I will now give my readers a few recipes for some really Scotch dishes, and 
let them judge for themselves whether or not they justify the designation of ‘ tasty.’ 

Oatmeal Brose. —Put a handful and a half of good coarse oatmeal into a bowl 
which has not been previously heated, add two saltspoonfuls of salt, a little pepper, 
and a piece of dripping or butter about the size of a walnut. Pour over this one 
pint of boiling water; let stand a minute, and then break up with a fork. Eat 
while hot. 

Oatmeal Porridge. —Put half a pound of fine or coarse oatmeal, according to 
taste, into a saucepan, with a dessertspoonful of salt; add one pint of cold water, 
and stir until thoroughly mixed and quite smooth; then add one and a half pint of 
boiling water, place on the fire, and stir constantly until they have boiled ten 
minutes ; draw to the side, and stir occasionally until required. 

Barley Broth. —Two pounds of the middle-cut of hough, two gallons of water, 
one teacupful of barley, one savoy, one Swede turnip, two carrots, pepper and salt 
to taste. Well wash the barley, put into a saucepan along with the water and 
hough, bring slowly to the boil, and skim well; chop the savoy very finely, grate 
the carrot and turnip (or if preferred, half of the turnip and one carrot can be left 
whole), add to the broth and season. An onion is a great improvement when its 
flavour is liked. Simmer five hours. When the meat is half cooked, take it out; 
brown in a stewpan, add gravy and seasoning, simmer slowly until required, and 
serve with potatoes. 

Cabbage Broth. —One and a half pound of flank, one gallon of water, one 
cabbage, one tablespoonful of rice, one carrot, one turnip, one small onion, salt 
and pepper. Bring the meat to the boil, skim; add the rice, after being well 
washed; slice the cabbage, carrot, turnip, and onion, and add with the pepper and 
salt. Boil for four hours. 

Green Kale .—Put a knuckle of pork into one and a half gallons of water: 
when it boils, skim, and add half a teacupful of well-washed barley, three stocks 
of kale (shred small), four leeks (minced finely), half a carrot (grated), and pepper 
and salt. Simmer for five hours. 

Sheep's Head Broth. —Get a good sheep’s head, singe it, cut out the eyes, and 
thoroughly rub the head with the liquid, and soak in salt water for a night. In the 
morning thoroughly clean the head, and soak in salted water for an hour. Put 
the head into a saucepan with pepper, salt, and three gallons of water; skim well, 
and boil for three hours. Take out the head, and put half a teacupful of well- 
washed barley, a savoy, a carrot, turnip, and four leeks, nicely sliced, into the stock; 
simmer for about three hours longer, and serve. 

Sheep's Head Pie. —Take half of the head which was boiled for broth, cut into 
nice pieces, using all the skin; season nicely with ground cloves, Jamaica, black, 
and white pepper, salt, a little parsley, and a hard-boiled egg, if liked. Put into a 
pie-dish that will just hold it. Cut the tongue into neat slices, and arrange them 
on the top. Moisten the whole with a little stock; cover with a nice short crust, 
and bake about one hour. 

Potted Head. —Take the other half of the head, chop it very small, and put into 
a saucepan with sufficient stock to just cover it; season with Jamaica, black, and 
white pepper, and salt; simmer slowly for three hours; and pour into a mould. 
When going to serve it, loosen the edges, reverse the mould on a dish, when it will 
slip out quite easily. Garnish, and serve. 


2 D 2 




404 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Haggis. —Procure a bag from the butcher ; soak in salt and water for a night; 
next morning scrape it well, and wash in boiling water; rub it over with salt, and 
soak in water until required. Boil a sheep’s draught or pluck for two hours ; when 
cold, grate the liver, and mince the heart and lights very finely, removing all pieces 
of vein and stringy parts; mix with this one pound of pork suet, minced very 
small; and two pounds of coarse oatmeal; season with salt and different kinds of 
pepper; mix well, using a little of the liquid that the pluck was boiled in to 
moisten it with: fill the bag, secure the mouth with a skewer, and plunge into 
boiling water; prick the bag with a fork to prevent it bursting, and boil for four 
hours. Haggis may be made in a jar, and thus save the trouble of cleaning 
the bag. 

White Skin Puddings. —Thoroughly clean the skins, scraping them, and 
soaking in salt and water; cut into lengths of about a foot, and turn them outside 
in. 'Fake about twelve pounds of oatmeal (the coarse kind is best) and six pounds 
of finely-minced pork suet; season with plenty of Jamaica, black, and white 
pepper, a little cayenne and ground cloves, and salt to taste ; mix thoroughly; fill 
the skins, turning them again as the mixture is put in : sew up both ends, and 
double them. Put into a pot of boiling water, prick with a fork to prevent 
bursting, and boil for two hours. They will keep for almost any length of time 
if packed in a barrel or jar of oatmeal. When wanted for the table, brown with a 
little dripping, add a little stock, and simmer for one hour. 

Buttermilk Scones .—Take four pounds of flour, rub in two ounces of butter, add 
one small teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, one dessertspoonful of cream of tartar, 
and one of salt; mix well, add enough buttermilk to make a pretty stiff dough; 
knead lightly, roll out, shape, and bake on a girdle over a clear fire, allowing five 
minutes to each side. Delicious scones are made by using half wheaten and half 
barley flour. 

Oatmeal Cakes or Bannocks. —Take for each cake two handfuls of coarse 
oatmeal, and a small piece of dripping, add a good pinch of salt, and moisten in a 
bowl with boiling water; turn out on a board sprinkled with oatmeal, and knead 
out with the knuckles of the hand, shaping at the same time. Bake on a girdle for 
about five minutes to harden, and then toast on a toaster before the fire until quite 
hard and nicely browned on both sides. 

Scotch Shortbread .—Beat one pound of butter to a cream; mix together one 
pound of rice flour, one pound of wheaten flour, and a quarter of a pound of 
pounded sugar; dredge slowly into the butter, and when well mixed divide the 
paste into four pieces. Have four sheets of well-greased paper ready, and 
knead one cake on each sheet, making it one inch thick, and shaping with a 
flagon lid. Crimp the edges with a fork, and prick the centre. Bake for half an 
hour. Should the oven be too hot, place a sheet of white paper over the cakes to 
prevent them becoming too brown. 




TWO NOR WEGIAN DISHES. 


405 


TWO NORWEGIAN DISHES. 

Ghiac .—A Norwegian dish, useful to make a pretty lunch dish out of odds and 
ends of meat. Take one pound of cooked meat, of which one quarter should be fat, and 
mince it. Take a large round of bread two inches thick, and pour over it sufficient 
hot beef tea, gravy, or stock of soup to soak it; when well soaked pound it in a 
mortar into a smooth batter. Beat one (or two) eggs well, and add them to the 
meat; also sauce according to taste, and seasoning of pepper and salt. Mix well 
all the ingredients together with the bread. Take a shaped tin of a size which this 
will fill, butter it well, press the mixture well down in it, and bake one hour. Let 
the shape remain in it a few minutes to settle after taking it out of the oven ; then 
turn it out on to a hot dish, sprinkle a few grated breadcrumbs over it, and brown it 
before the fire in a Dutch oven. When well browned, pour over it a rich brown 
gravy, and serve. Peas, seakale, or broccoli are excellent with it. 

Stikklespersgrod is a famous dish in Norway, very common at the dinner-table. 
It is a jelly made from gooseberries, and is usually flavoured with some kind of 
jam, generally raspberry or strawberry, and occasionally with the juice of juniper 
berries. When the latter flavouring is used, however, it spoils the entire jelly to 
some English palates. It is eaten from a soup-plate, with milk, and is very cool, 
pleasant, and palatable. The following recipe for Stikklespergrod is given by 
Mrs. Olivia M. Stone in her Norway in June :—‘Put four pounds of gooseberries 
and half a pound of raspberries into a saucepan; let them simmer till the fruit is 
quite mashed, then strain them through a cloth for jelly. When you have well 
pressed out all the juice, set it on the fire with half a pound of sugar and six ounces 
of cornflour or arrowroot; let it simmer till the cornflour is done, which it will be 
in about ten minutes; then take it off the fire, and pour it into cups or moulds 
previously dipped in cold water. To be served with cold cream and sugar or 
custard. The proportions are one pint of juice to a quarter of a pound of corn¬ 
flour or arrowroot. Sugar and spice to taste.’ 


SOME SWEDISH DISHES. 

I shall preface my remarks on Swedish cookery with a few words on a subject that 
will, I think, interest most of my readers—Swedish girls. In Sweden girls leave 
school at fifteen or sixteen years of age. Until their confirmation their time is 
devoted entirely to study; they know nothing of domestic matters until their school 
education is completed. 

The Swedes are, as a rule, good linguists, and one rarely meets a lady who does 
not at all events speak one language besides her own. They usually play pretty 
well, and I do not think they are by any means behind their sisters of the south in 
general culture. In one respect I wish our English girls were like Swedes. The 
latter have much simpler tastes, they rarely wear ornaments, except a brooch at the 
throat, and, as a rule, have not a silk dress until they are introduced, and then their 
dress continues to be simple, but by no means ugly or unbecoming. A ball-dress is 
very frequently white muslin trimmed with coloured ribbons. 




4 -Ob 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Swedish girls are very rarely idle ; in fact, industry seems to form part of their 
education, and whatever the social position of a lady, she never considers that her 
housekeeping duties are beneath her. When not occupied in her house, she knits 
and works a great deal. The Swedes are a very simple, unostentatious people. 
This is perhaps increased by there being so much less class distinction in Sweden 
than in England. In many parts of the country the broad line that separates 
employers and employed here does not exist at all. 

I am acquainted with a family residing some miles from Stockholm: their 
house is a large one (I wish some of my readers could spend a few days in it, they 
would understand then how much a girl may do in a day); it is only two stories 
high. The kitchen is on the ground-floor; in the centre is a large white porcelain 
stove, a very pretty stove, I think, it looks so bright and clean always. It has 
places at the top that can be uncovered at will, so as to cook by an open fire, but it 
consumes less fuel than our kitchen stoves. Here, as in most Continental 
kitchens, copper pans are much used, except for certain things ; such, for instance, 
as potatoes; and some parts of veal are never cooked in copper, while green 
vegetables always are. My friend’s family consisted of himself, his wife, and three 
daughters. He was formerly a captain in the navy. He now farms his own land, 
and the entire household consists of forty people, all of whom are fed and provided 
for. The housekeeping is done by the three daughters in turn, each taking it a 
week at a time. To enable them to do it well they studied three years after leaving 
school. A year was devoted to cooking and household management, including the 
dairy work. Cheese being much eaten in Sweden, the making of the different 
kinds is very important; nor was another branch of dairy work neglected, for 
all three of the girls can milk the cows. Then the laundry work had to be learnt, 
and the third year was devoted to spinning, weaving, and needlework. There 
are five women-servants for the house. Here, in Sweden, servants are engaged 
for six months at a time. April and October are the months when changes 
are made. The days on which they are engaged are called Flyttedager. 
The wages are generally about five pounds a year. There is an old servant 
here who has lived in the house for sixty years. She was engaged at the age of ten; 
her wages have never exceeded two pounds a year, but now she does not draw all 
her wages. She asks what could she do with so much money; she has only her 
clothes to find, and she can still weave more than she can wear. The daughter 
whose week it is to be housekeeper always rises very early, for, with such a large 
household, there is plenty to do, and everything is done at home—baking, dairy, 
laundry, all have to be superintended. The coffee even is home-roasted. I have 
been so successful in roasting coffee in the way I was shown by a Swede that I will 
here give the directions as I received them. 

The principal thing required in good coffee-roasting is patience; it cannot be 
done in a hurry : Put the coffee berries in a very clean frying-pan, put over a gentle 
fire to roast, keep turning them all the time with a wooden spoon held in the right 
hand, and with the left hand give the pan a shake every now and then. If the 
coffee is good it will contain fat enough to cook itself; if not, put a small piece of 
fresh butter in with it. It is best not to roast more than half a pound at a time, or 
some berries may get burnt from not getting turned quickly enough. Great care 
must be taken not to over-roast the coffee, which quite spoils it. It is done as 
soon as it is a chestnut brown. In some parts of Sweden they put salt in the coffee 




SOME SWEDISH DISHES. 


407 


when they make it. Poor people often roast barley and add it to the coffee; some¬ 
times, I think, their coffee is all barley. 

Usually coffee and biscuits are taken at eight in the morning; the breakfast is 
at ten. In the north of Sweden, this meal is composed almost always of potatoes 
and fish; cold meats are served also, but rarely partaken of. The dinner hour in 
Sweden is from one to four o’clock, in the country earlier than in the towns. In 
families the dinner generally consists of the s?ndrgas (which I will explain), followed 
by soup, a joint, and dessert, sometimes fish or pudding, but in the majority of 
houses pudding is not served every day at dinner. The Swedes are a very hospi¬ 
table people. They have many curious customs. Sometimes at dinner the guests 
are all seated at small tables ; and the dinner being in the middle of the day makes 
no difference to the guests appearing in evening dress, the same as they would in 
England. When the meal is finished the gentlemen accompany the ladies from the 
dining-room, and every one shakes hands with the hostess and thanks her for the enter¬ 
tainment. The general conversation is then resumed, and shortly coffee is served. 

The smorgas precedes the dinner; it is regarded as a sort of preparation for it—‘ an 
appetiser.’ The literal meaning of the word is ‘ bread and butter.’ It is served at 
a small table called a smorgas-bord; it sometimes consists of as many as twenty-five 
dishes, ordinarily of from ten to fifteen. Many of these dishes are very strange, and 
quite belong to the Scandinavian Peninsula. They are partaken of standing. The 
guests help themselves to what they like, and eat bread and butter with whatever 
they take. The gentlemen always drink a glass of branvin (spirit) with the smorgas. 
The favourite dishes for the smorgas-bord are sillsallat (herring salad), grajlax, 
smoked salmon, anchovies, caviare, hard-boiled eggs, sausages, smoked goose breast, 
smoked reindeer meat cut in very thin slices, different kinds of bread and cheese 
and butter. Some of the recipes that I shall give will, I think, be only curiosities 
for my readers, for certainly many of the Swedish dishes require the taste for them 
to be cultivated, and even then I doubt whether they would ever be palatable to 
English people. Perhaps the dish considered by the Swedes the greatest delicacy 
served at the smorgas is grajlax (raw salmon). The following is the way in which 
it is prepared: Take a large fat salmon, the larger the better, but weighing at least 
seven or eight pounds—a bright-looking fish should be chosen—cut off the head of 
the fish and half the tail, leave the fins on, split the salmon up the back, keeping 
the knife against the backbone; when opened, take out the back-bone carefully and 
also the larger of the small bones. The fish must not be washed, but only wiped 
clean with a linen cloth, then rub the fish all over with saltpetre and sugar mixed ; 
for a large salmon use one handful of each; lay over the salmon some twigs of dill, 
and then put the two sides together, strew the bottom of the tub with salt, and put the 
fish into it thick part down. In an hour the salmon will be fit to eat. If it is not 
to be eaten for several days, it should be rubbed with a handful of salt, a spoonful 
of saltpetre, and a handful of sugar, and a weight put on it. It is best the first three 
days. It is served cut in slices half a finger thick, and fresh dill twigs laid on the slices; 
a sauce made of oil, vinegar, sugar, mustard, pepper and salt may be added if wished. 

Sillsallat .—Take four fat herrings, bone them, cut them in small pieces and lay 
them in a little milk, then cut some well-cooked beef, three or four potatoes, and 
two apples into small dice; mix these and a finely chopped onion with the herrings, 
add oil, vinegar, pepper, salt, and a little mustard, mix well, and garnish the salad 
with beet-root and hard-boiled eggs. The herrings are not to be cooked for this 





408 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


dish. The smoked salmon, goose breast, and reindeer are all eaten without being 
cooked; they are cut in very thin slices to serve them. 

There are generally two kinds of bread on the table, a coarse rye bread and fine 
wheat bread. The following is the recipe for making coarse rye bread, called 
kndckebrod: Take coarse rye meal, lay it in a kneading-trough, mix in some salt 
and some prepared caraways—be careful to mix it well—make a hole in the centre, 
and put in sufficient good yeast, lay over it a little meal, knead the yeast well in, 
then cover with a warm cloth and stand in a moderately warm place. When it has 
well risen, let it stand another hour, then make the dough into small loaves, prick 
them on the top, and bake in a rather hot oven; when well baked, lay them out 
separately, dust them over with meal, and put them on an ordinary bread-spit 
to dry. 

I give this recipe as it is given in the Swedish Kokboks , but I would recom¬ 
mend my readers to try the next recipe in preference. Fint kndckebrod (fine rye 
bread) : Take two and a half pounds of wheat flour and two and a half pounds of 
sifted rye meal, one quart of lukewarm milk, in which half a pound of butter has 
been melted, a little salt, and half a pint of good fresh yeast; a little anise or 
caraway seed may be added according to taste; knead all well together, cover it 
over, put it by in a warm place; when well risen leave it an hour longer, then 
make into small loaves, and bake in a moderately hot oven. 

Many other kinds of bread are made; sometimes they are flavoured with cin¬ 
namon or cardamoms. 

Porridge is a great deal eaten in Sweden; it is called grot, and is made of 
barley, rye, oats, rice, or other grains; in some parts it is the supper dish of the 
people. Buttermilk is often eaten with porridge ; also sour milk and cream. 

I will give you one or two recipes for good porridge. 

Smorgrot (Butter Porridge).—Take half a pound of fresh butter, put it in a 
stewpan over the fire, when it is melted work in with a whisk as much wheat meal 
as it will take to make it a tolerably thick paste, continue to work it for half an 
hour over a very gentle fire, then dilute it with a tablespoonful of warm milk, con¬ 
tinue to stir, adding a little more milk until it is the proper consistency for a rather 
thick porridge; stir and cook until it is quite smooth, then add a little salt, and 
serve with cream and cinnamon sugar. Another porridge is called Skansk grot 
(Skane is the name of the most southern province of Sweden, hence the name 
Skansk). I can recommend it to the readers of The Girls Own Indoor Book as 
being very easy to make, and good to eat. 

Skansk grot. —Take half a pound of rice, boil it in sufficient water with the rind 
of a lemon and a piece of cinnamon; when it is half done add to it one pound of 
apples peeled and cut up, two dozen raisins, some sugar, and a glass of white wine. 
Boil until the rice is quite tender. The lemon peel and cinnamon must be taken 
out when the porridge is served. It may be served hot or cold, and with cream or 
cold milk. Many Swedish dishes would be so utterly repugnant to English 
people that it is not so easy to select a dinner of really Swedish dishes as it is to 
choose a French dinner. My cookery book contains a great many recipes in which 
the blood of animals is used; indeed, in some places in the north, blood, as well as 
milk, is frozen in skins, and kept for winter use. I have a recipe for what is called 
‘ swart,’ or black soup ; it commences with what seem to me directions for torturing 
a goose. One is told to take a goose and pluck some of the feathers from the 



SOME SWEDISH DISHES. 


409 


neck, then to make a cut in the neck with a penknife, so as to bleed the goose into 
a decanter, the blood to be saved to use in the soup, etc. But, as I am sure none of 
you will wish to make ‘ swartsoppa,’ I will not give the remainder of the directions. 

I think this, with the recipes I have given you for the preparation of uncooked fish 
and smoked meats, will show you that there are great differences in English and 
Swedish dishes. However, apart from the national cookery, the Swedes are some¬ 
what cosmopolitan in the dishes they serve. English apple-pie and plum-pudding 
have their places in the Swedish cookery books, together with many French and 
some Polish and Russian recipes. I dare say some will notice how few ingredients 
are required for the recipes I am about to give you, compared with what would be 
wanted for a French dinner—indeed, many of the dishes are very simple, and also 
very easy to cook. However, experience teaches that the richest and most compli¬ 
cated dishes are not always the best, and certainly are not the most wholesome; so 
that I hope some of our girls, guided by the accompanying bill of fare, will try a 
Swedish dinner. 

Matsedel (menu). 

Skansk soppa. 

Stufwad stockfish (stewed cod). 

Siekt kyckling (roast chicken). 

Mjolpudding (meal pudding). 

Skansk Soppa. —Take four carrots, one head of celery, and one leek, and slice 
them very fine. Put in a stewpan one pound of peeled potatoes, a teacupful of 
rice, and a little broth; put on the fire, and as soon as the broth boil, put in the 
sliced vegetables; add more broth until the soup is not too thick, then add a little 
butter and flour and a teaspoonful of finely chopped parsley. Serve the soup 
immediately. 

Stufuoad Stockfisk .—Wash the cod, then beat it well, lay it in water for some 
hours, take it out and bone it, then parboil it and put it on a sieve to drain. Put 
a stewpan on the fire, with a lump of butter and three tablespoonfuls of flour; when 
it hisses, stir in enough milk to make a sauce; when the sauce boils, lay in the fish, 
add some cooked potatoes and some finely sliced cooked carrots, with a little pepper 
and salt. 

Stekt Kyckling. —Take two chickens, wash them well, and dry them thoroughly 
with a cloth. Mix two ounces of butter and some chopped parsley together with 
the blade of a knife, put half into each chicken, then truss them. Put a lump of 
butter into a stewpan; when it is quite hot, put in the chickens, breast down; 
sprinkle them with a little salt. When the breasts are nicely browned, turn them 
over, add two spoonfuls of broth, and let them cook half an hour, then take them 
out and put them on a dish. Put into the stewpan the chickens were in a little 
cream (sufficient to make a sauce), whisk it with the broth that was in the stewpan ; 
when hot (not boiling), put it in the dish with the chickens, and serve them with a 
salad or gherkins. 

Mjolpudding med Citronsas (with lemon sauce).—Put a pint of milk in a stewpan 
over the fire, with three ounces of butter; when it is hot, sift flour in until it is like- 
a thick gruel, stirring all the time; then stand the stewpan back a little to cool, beat 
up ten eggs, stir them in when the flour and milk have stood ten minutes; add also 
three ounces of stoned raisins, the grated rind of a lemon, two ounces of pounded 
sugar, and a small glass of Madeira: stir altogether over the fire for ten minutes, 



4io 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


then put into a well-buttered mould, cover with buttered paper and a cloth, put into 
boiling water and keep it boiling an hour and a half. Serve with lemon sauce. 

Citronsas. —Rub the rind of a lemon well with two ounces of loaf-sugar, then put 
the sugar in a stewpan with half a teacupful of water and the juice of a lemon; boil 
ten minutes. Whisk in a basin the yolks of two eggs; when well beaten, add the 
hot syrup very slowly, whisking the eggs all the time. Pour over the pudding to 
serve. 

The following is a Norwegian dish; it is often served in Sweden, and is so good 
that I give it — 

Marinerad Torsk. —Cut a cod in slices, take the bones out, and dip the slices in 
a mixture of oiled butter, chopped shalots, chopped parsley, and lemon-juice. Put 
some of the mixture (marinade) in the bottom of a dish, then lay in the slices of 
fish, sprinkle a little salt over; then cover them with grated bread-crumbs, and pour 
oiled butter over the whole ; put in the oven and bake. White wine sauce may be 
served with this dish. Soles are very good cooked this way. I have found roast 
rabbits ‘ in the Swedish way ’ satisfactory ; the dish is called stekte kaniner. Well 
wash and dry the rabbits, lay them in a pan with rosemary, basil, and thyme over them 
and inside them ; leave them for twenty-four hours in a cold place, then take them 
up and truss them ; cover them well with buttered paper, roast them, basting well 
all the time. Serve with brown gravy, in which there is a little tarragon vinegar. 

There are several different kinds of cheese eaten in Sweden; one, called kummin 
ost, is flavoured with caraway seed. Salads are very general, but they are quite unlike 
those served in England. They are made with anything, and frequently contain a 
great variety, meat, fish, etc., being put in together. Vegetables are cooked in 
butter or stewed, young peas are sometimes stewed in brown gravy, and served in 
their pods. 

Joints of meat, more particularly legs and shoulders of mutton, are salted and 
dried. Meat thus prepared is called spegekjdd . 

Many kinds of mushrooms are used in Sweden; indeed, a chapter in the cookery 
book is devoted to the various edible fungi. 

Fish is so generally eaten throughout the country that great attention is given to 
the various ways of cooking it. 

It is considered much better if cooked in sea water; when boiled in fresh water, 
a little saltpetre or vinegar is usually added to the water to make the fish firm. 

Fish puddings are much liked. I will give the recipes for two. One of the 
recipes I have found very useful, as it is suitable for any cooked fish; it is also very 
good made with scalded whiting. 

Sillpudding (Herring Pudding).—Lay some good herrings in water three hours, 
then skin and bone them, and lay them in a little milk for one hour; take them out 
and put them in a clean linen cloth to drain all the moisture from them. Butter a 
pie-dish well, mash some boiled potatoes with a fork, and cover the bottom of the 
dish with them, then place a layer of herrings in the dish (the herrings should be in 
pieces), then a layer of fine bread-crumbs; repeat the layers of potatoes, herrings, 
and bread-crumbs until the dish is full, the top layer being bread-crumbs; over each 
layer of bread-crumbs a teaspoonful of oiled butter must be poured; then beat up 
three or four eggs with a little salt and half a pint of milk, and pour it over the 
contents of the mould ; bake one hour in a moderate oven (the pudding should not 
be very moistwhen it is put into the oven). This quantity of milk is sufficient for 




SOME EGYPTIAN DISHES. 


411 

five or six herrings. When done it should be a nice brown on the top. It is 
served in the dish it is baked in, with a tureen of oiled butter for sauce. 

Pudding of Kokt Fisk (Pudding of cooked fish).—Take some cold fish, separate 
it from the skin and bones, cut it into very small pieces, mix with it a little oiled 
butter, white pepper, and anchovy sauce, beat up five eggs to a froth with half a 
pint of milk or cream, mix with the fish. Butter a deep dish well, put the mixture 
in, bake gently for an hour, serve in the dish with a serviette folded round it. This 
pudding is to be eaten without any sauce. 

Cooked fish pudding is sometimes made without the anchovy sauce ; a little salt 
must then be added. If anchovy sauce is used, it must be made from the following 
recipe:— 

Ansjovissas .—Take six salted anchovies, bone them and pound them in a 
mortar with a lump of butter ; when well pounded, pour into the mortar a table¬ 
spoonful of boiling water, mix well with the fish, then pass the whole through a 
sieve. Make an ounce of butter hot in a saucepan, add a tablespoonful of milk to 
it, put the fish to it, and boil for five minutes, stirring all the time. This sauce is 
used in many Swedish dishes; it is also served as a sauce with fish, but to serve it 
that way, it is necessary to add a little more milk and the yolks of two eggs, to 
thicken it a little. 

I will conclude my remarks on Swedish cookery with a recipe that is appropriate 
for a ‘ good apple year ’ —that is, a recipe for apple soup. The soup may be 
served hot or cold, and I think most of my readers would like it 

Appelsoppa .—Take four pounds of apples (they must be peeled and cored before 
they are weighed), boil them in a pint of water until well done, then pass them 
through a sieve. Put in a stewpan half a pint of water, a little cinnamon, a quarter 
of a pound of raisins, without the stones, and two pears peeled and cored, a quarter 
of a pound of loaf sugar, and a tablespoonful of potato meal or flour; when these 
ingredients have boiled half an hour, add the apples and more sugar to taste. If 
liked, the juice of a lemon may be added; boil all up and serve. If served cold 
sponge-cakes or rusks must be handed with it. 


SOME EGYPTIAN DISHES FOR HOT WEATHER. 

The following recipes are given in the hope that the readers of The Girls Own 
Indoor Book may find them useful in summer weather more especially, when they 
may with advantage take the place of more solid food. 

Real Eastern Nebabs. 

This is the simplest of all Eastern dishes, and is useful when something light and 
relishing is needed in a hurry. It is exceedingly good also for invalids who are 
forbidden ‘ made ’ dishes. Take tender mutton, not too fat, cut into bits the size 
of a large hazel-nut, have a rather long iron-skewer ready, and spike them upon it, 
after sprinkling with a little salt and pepper. When much is needed you should 
have two or three skewers at least. Place over some bright red coals (charcoal is 
used in Egypt, but red coal, perfectly clear of smoke, will answer), and turn once or 
twice till roasted well. Chop some fresh parsley on a plate, and with a knife push 
off the bits of roasted meat upon the bed of parsley and serve at once. Of course, 




412 


THE GIRLS OWL INDOOR BOOK. 


an invalid might not be able to eat parsley, but this is the way it is served for 
ordinary persons in the East, and if the meat be tender, and yet fresh for any taint 
will spoil it—it is a capital dish and remarkably digestible. 

Rolled Vine Leaves. 

This is a particularly pretty and nice summer dish. Take young fresh vine 
leaves, dip for half a minute into boiling water, then lay them beside you while you 
prepare the stuffing as follows : Take some raw mutton, not too fat, chopped up 
fine, about equal bulk of raw rice, well picked and washed, season with a little 
onion minced very fine, salt and pepper; put a vine leaf in the palm of the left 
hand, and put a very small quantity of stuffing in the centre, roll in an oblong 
shape; if much stuffing is put, the swelling of the rice making it swell, the leaf 
bursts open in cooking, and is spoilt , therefore a good many are needed for a dishful, 
as they should be a pile. When each leaf is done it must be placed in the saucepan, 
and squeezed slightly against the rest till the pan is nearly full. The bones of the 
meat, or some of them, are usually laid lightly on the top ; a little water-— only just 
enough to keep from burning—is added, and a little clarified butter (this last may 
be omitted if the dish is for invalids, &c.), one or two tomatoes, raw and cut small, 
should be put on the top, if to be had; if not, a squeeze of lemon can be substituted. 
Cover close, and boil gently till done. Ascertain this by taking out one to try. If 
carefully cooked and nicely arranged on a dish, this will tempt many a delicate 
appetite in hot summer weather, and looks pretty on the table ; but the directions 
must be accurately followed. If cooked rice or cold meat be used, the dish will not 
be worth eating, and old vine leaves will spoil it. 

Kufta (Egyptian Style). 

Take some fresh meat, either beef or mutton, cut from the bones, and put these 
to stew in a saucepan while preparing the Kufta. Pound the raw meat in a mortar 
(it ought to be a marble one, but a perfectly clean metal one might answer) till it 
is like a paste, adding a few drops of water from time to time. Then add dry 
bread-crumbs, chopped parsley, and a very little minced onion, pepper, and salt. 
Dip the hand in water and roll the paste into balls, not larger than walnuts. Fry 
these slightly in butter, when rather brown, add some tomatoes cut into the pan, 
stir for a few minutes, then turn all into the stewpan where the bones have been 
cooking (having carefully skimmed the same, of course), and properly season it. 
Let there be enough gravy to make a plentiful allowance of sauce. They should be 
done in an hour and a half or less from the time of putting them into the broth. 
Have a dish of nicely boiled rice, and when this is very nearly tender enough, but 
not quite , heat a spoonful of clarified butter to boiling-point, pour into the rice (in 
its stewpan), and set by the side of the fire for five or six minutes; serve to eat with 
the Kuftas, but they must be in a separate dish. I have never met any one who 
did not like this, if properly cooked. But if you do not pound the meat very well 
your dish will be quite unpalatable; there must be no bits of gristle or hard fibre, 
recollect. 

Oriental Rice Milk. 

This dish, which is only a resource for invalids when forbidden better fare in 
England, is really a very nice one, prepared Oriental way. But the milk should, if 
possible, be unskimmed milk; if partly skimmed or watered , allow more. Boil the 




USEFUL HINTS IN COOKERY. 


413 


milk, and when just commencing to boil put in the rice, carefully washed, in the 
proportion of about a tablespoonful, not heaped, to a half-pint of milk; as soon as 
it boils again, slacken the fire, and simmer or boil slowly, stirring almost all the 
time, add white sugar to taste, and a little cinnamon ditto; if the milk be real 
country milk, you add a very little water, as it thickens, now and then; if the milk¬ 
man has saved you the trouble, add a little cold milk; stir every few moments lest 
it bum. It should be of the consistence of thick cream when done, and the grains 
hardly to be recognised. If well done it is a really tempting invalid dish, and not 
to be despised by healthy people. The English way is to put far too much rice, 
and boil far too quickly, and serve when half cooked, in fact. This way takes 
more time and trouble, but few good things are to be had without. If you will try 
it, my dear readers, some invalid will one day thank you, I feel sure. 


USEFUL HINTS. 

Australian Bush Cookery Recipes. 

In making bread and pastry, to ensure success with soda, or baking-powder, 
your sponge must be lightly mixed, not at all stiff, just firm enough to mould into 
the form of loaves, and must be put in a hot oven. Take 12 lbs. flour, 1 heaped 
tablespoonful of salt, the same of soda; mix with skim milk or buttermilk. If 
very thick the bread may be baked at once; if only sour, leave the sponge mixed 
for some hours ; mix lightly again, and bake in small loaves or flat cakes; bake 
one hour. Another recipe : 12 lbs. flour, 1 heaped tablespoonful each salt and 
soda, 1 flat tablespoonful cream of tartar; work this a little stiffer than milk bread, 
put in the oven at once in loaves or flat cakes; bake one hour. Excellent scones 
or tea-cakes may be made by taking a piece of dough mixed by either of the above 
recipes, rolling it out about a quarter or half an inch thick, and baking on a 
hanging pan or camp oven on a slow fire, turning them over from side to side as 
they cook. To make cakes with either soda or baking-powder, take a quarter of a 
pound dripping or lard to every pound of flour (sugar, if you wish them sweet, half 
a pound ; with quarter of a pound they are nice), and currants or caraways, of 
either quarter of a pound or less if you choose; of baking-powder add one level 
teaspoonful to every pound of your mixture, and mix with either sweet milk or cold 
water. For soda take one heaped tablespoonful for every 10 lbs. and mix this 
with sour or butter milk. If you wish, you can make this recipe into either small 
or large cakes by mixing it like batter, or stiffer, as you think best. Mixed thin, 
and boiled in a greased basin, the above mixture will make an excellent pudding. 
Dripping will do, though by substituting the same quantity of suet it is improved. 
With no currants in it, only sugar and a little essence of lemon, it is an excellent 
pudding. To make fritters, mix 1 lb. flour, quarter-teaspoonful soda, £ lb. or less 
sugar in a batter, with thick milk : add a few currants if liked ; drop with a spoon 
into a pan quarter-full of boiling dripping; when coloured on one side, turn over. 
They should be like small cakes when done, very crisp and light: sprinkle with 
white sugar when served. To make baking-powder as good as can be bought, 
take 1 lb. carbonate soda, £ lb. cream of tartar, £ lb. tartaric acid; mix, pass 
through a flour sieve or wire strainer, bottle in pickle bottle, and keep well corked. 





414 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Sponge Cake. 

Five fresh eggs, the weight of four eggs in sugar and of three in flour, the rind 
and juice of a lemon. Put the whites of the eggs on to a large plate entirely free 
from specks and yolk, add a pinch of salt, and beat with a large knife to a very 
stiff froth; put eight yolks into a large basin, and add the whites when well beaten; 
beat together for five minutes; add the sugar, which must be finely pounded, and 
beat with the eggs for ten minutes; then grate in the rind of the lemon ; add the 
juice ; stir, but not beat in the flour; butter a nice large tin, pour in the cake, and 

bake one hour and a half. ^ 

Little Buns. 

A teacupful of candied peel, the same of powdered sugar, the same ot 
butter, one pint and a half of fine flour, one teaspoonful and a half of baking 
powder, and two eggs. Beat the butter to a cream, add the sugar, and beat 
again; then two eggs, and beat well together five minutes; add the peel, mix the 
flour and baking-powder together, and stir well in with a spoon to the eggs, &c. 
Drop two teaspoonfuls of the mixture into a very small patty-pan, and bake in a 
very quick oven about ten minutes, or till of a golden brown. 

Genoa Cake. 

Ingredients .—Take half pound of butter, eight ounces castor sugar, half pound 
sultana raisins, two ounces mixed peel, ten ounces of flour, four well-beaten eggs, 
two ounces of almonds blanched, grated rind of one lemon, two teaspoonfuls of 
baking powder. 

Cream (that is, stir the butter with the hand in one direction until the butter is 
quite like cream) half pound of butter; mix with it by degrees eight ounces of 
castor sugar, ten ounces of flour, half a pound of sultana raisins, two ounces of mixed 
peel cut up small, four well-beaten eggs. Beat all well together for some minutes; 
have ready two ounces of almonds blanched, add them to the other ingredients, 
and lastly the grated rind of one lemon and two teaspoonfuls of baking powder. 
Butter the tin, and line it with a buttered paper, the paper to project about one inch 
above the rim. Pour in the mixture, and bake at once in a cool oven for one hour 
and a half. Sprinkle a few cut-up almonds on the top. 

Bouillabaise. 

Two Spanish onions, four tablespoonfuls of salad oil, a lobster, an eel, scraps of 
any large-headed fish, pepper and salt, a pinch of thyme, two bay leaves, a penny¬ 
worth of saffron, and a couple of stale French rolls. 

Cut the two onions into slices, fry them in an earthenware stewpan, with three 
or four tablespoonfuls of salad oil, until they are slightly brown (do not let them fry 
too much); add pepper and salt, a pinch of thyme, and a couple of bay leaves. 
While the onions are frying, cut the lobster in half, take out the inside, as it contains 
a bag of sand, then cut the lobster into pieces. Take several scraps of other fish of 
any kind—an eel (large-headed fish impart a better flavour), but any sort will do, 
so long as there is variety : now add the lobster and heads of fish, and let them fry 
together with the onions. Let them fry for five minutes, then add the rest of the 
fish, and add sufficient to cover well over the contents of the stewpan. Take a 
pennyworth of saffron, and dissolve it in a teacup of water, throw it into the 
stewpan, and stir all well together, and let the whole boil a good half-hour. 
Prepare a couple of stale French rolls cut into slices, and as soon as the Bouillabaise 



USEFUL HINTS IN COOKERY. 


4 i 5 


is cooked pour the liquor on the head, and serve in a tureen. The fish is served 
on a dish. 

Recipe for a French Omelette as made in France. 

Four eggs, three tablespoonfuls of milk, one teaspoonful of sweet herbs chopped 
fine (parsley, lemon thyme, and marjoram; dried herbs in the winter), two tea¬ 
spoonfuls of grated cheese, three ounces of butter. 

Beat up the eggs, then add the milk and herbs and cheese : put the butter into 
a frying-pan (six-inch enamelled and earthenware). Let the butter boil till it 
sputters, then pour in the omelette, stir it round carefully one way till it thickens, 
then shake it a little, so that it does not stick to the pan, and serve up hot. 

Stewed Beetroot as a Vegetable. 

One or two beetroots, two onions, some lard, three teaspoonfuls of salt, one 
dessert-spoonful of flour, milk or cream, four teaspoonfuls of brown sugar, one 
teaspoonful of pepper, one tablespoonful of vinegar. 

Bake the beetroots for two hours till quite tender; when cold cut into thin 
slices. Chop fine the two onions, take lard enough to fry while stirring with a 
spoon; add the flour, milk, salt, sugar, pepper, vinegar, boil all together, then add 
to the beetroot. Place the beetroot in the middle of the dish, and put round it a. 
border of mashed potatoes. 

Les Merveilles.— A Swiss Dish. 

Half breakfast cup of flour, two eggs broken in whites and yolks, one teaspoonful 
of salt, half pound of lard or dripping melted in a saucepan. 

Knead the flour and eggs into a hard cake, and leave it for half an hour; roll 
it as thin as paper, then divide into strips one inch wide ; stretch them slightly and 
roll them round the hands and press the ends together; dip them one by one into 
the boiling lard—they are cooked in half a minute ; then powder them over with 
white sugar, and eat with preserve. 

Hominy. 

Half pound hominy, half pound of grated cheese. 

Soak the hominy in cold water over night, next morning boil till soft When 

cooked, add grated cheese, put into a dish and bake twenty minutes. Very good 

eaten with salad. _ 

SoUFFLET AU FrOMAGE. 

Half ounce butter, one tablespoonful of flour, half a pint of milk, pne tea- 
spoonful of salt and a little pepper, a breakfast-cupful of grated cheese, yolk of three 
eggs, the whites beaten separately into a froth. 

Take the butter and flour melted in a saucepan and mixed to a thick cream, 
add the milk slowly, salt and pepper. Stir them all up till it becomes a thick 
cream, then add the cheese and yolks of eggs, lastly the whites. Put the whole 
into a flat buttered dish and leave it to bake in the oven twenty minutes, till brown, 
and serve up hot. It must be eaten at once. 

Rogrod —A Norwegian Dish. 

One pound of red-currant juice, one pound of loaf sugar, half pound ground 
rice, quarter ounce of cinnamon, one pint cold water. 



416 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Squeeze the red currants into a cloth and weigh the juice, add the sugar and 
water, with cinnamon tied in a bit of muslin. Put these into a stewpan on the fire. 
When it boils pick out the cinnamon, and very gradually sprinkle in the rice, 
stirring without ceasing for a quarter of an hour. Wet some cups or moulds, and 
pour the rogrod into them ; when quite cold serve it out with pounded sugar and 
cream or milk. When the currants are juicy a quart will yield a pound of juice ; if 
at all dry three pints will be required. 

Sauce A la Mayonnaise. 

The yolks of two eggs, a teacupful of oil, dessert-spoonful of tarragon vinegar. 

Beat well the two yolks of eggs, pour in the oil drop by drop, stirring it one way 
all the while, till it turns to a whitish cream; then stir in one dessert-spoonful of 
tarragon vinegar. 

India Pickle. 

This pickle is particularly convenient for those who have a garden, and who 
are in the habit of receiving vegetables in quantities which they cannot immediately 
use, because additions can be made to it of almost every sort and at any time as 
the ingredients come into season. Cauliflowers, white cabbage, French beans, 
cucumbers, young and old carrots, onions large and small, beetroot, radishes from 
which the green part has been cut away, radish pods, nasturtium seeds, and small 
green apples may all be employed for the purpose. Prepare the vegetables which 
require it before using them; that is, divide the cauliflower into small pieces, slice 
the cabbage as thinly as possible, peel small onions and slice large ones, slice also 
beetroot, cucumbers and apples : in short, act as common-sense dictates in this 
matter. Put the prepared vegetables into a stewpan with brine which is sufficiently 
strong to bear an egg. Let it simmer for one minute, then drain and dry perfectly. 
Make pickle to cover the vegetables entirely as follows :— 

Put two quarts of good vinegar with i oz. of bruised ginger, i oz. black 
peppercorns, i oz. Jamaica pepper, i oz. cloves, and i oz. peeled garlic (if liked). 
Boil the vinegar and spices gently for five minutes. Mix an ounce of mustard, an 
ounce of turmeric and half a teaspoonful of cayenne smoothly with a little cold 
vinegar, stir the mixture into the hot vinegar and pour the whole boiling upon the 
dried vegetables. When these have soaked all the vinegar add more. Before 
vegetables are added to this pickle they should be prepared, simmered in brine, 
and dried as in the first instance. India pickle will improve with keeping, and 
should by rights be kept for twelve months before using. 




TINNED MEATS. 


417 


TINNED MEATS; THEIR VALUE TO HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Tinned meats and provisions may be regarded from two distinct points of view. 
The majority of persons, especially in this country, look upon them simply as a con¬ 
venience to housekeepers; but the subject should be regarded from a far higher point 
than one of mere convenience, for by means of tinned provisions the whole food supply 
of the world is increased, and thereby the happiness and enjoyment of mankind at 
large. 

By means of tinned meats the superfluities of one country help the deficiencies 
of others. Owing to this useful invention, no longer are sheep slaughtered for their 
wool and tallow only, and the carcases wasted, but the whole is utilised. It should 
be borne in mind that economy in the use of food is a duty clearly pointed out to 
us by the highest of all authority. The age of miracles has passed, but were it in 
our power to multiply our food miraculously, we are taught that it would still be a 
duty to gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost. 

At present I will confine myself to the consideration of tinned meats in relation 
to their value to housekeepers, and I will illustrate my subject by supposing the 
following case, which is by no means a rare one in England in the present day. 

There are, throughout the length and breadth of the land, many hundreds of 
little quiet country villages which, to a certain extent, may be said to be isolated 
from civilised life. There is the village inn—alas! generally more than one; the 
village shop, a few scattered houses and outlying farms. But for all practical 
purposes the well-to-do inhabitants are dependent for their supplies on the 
carrier’s cart, which takes a journey into the neighbouring town, some four or five 
miles distant. 

The village shop generally supplies the inhabitants with bread; probably they 
will kill a pig on Thursday or Friday, and supply the usual dish of pork for Sunday’s 
dinner. They also will usually be found to deal in cheap crockery, needles and 
cotton, sweetstufif, candles, pickles, etc. The only means of communication with 
the neighbouring town is, as I have said, the carrier’s cart, which generally takes a 
few passengers. I have lately lived in a little village myself, and have travelled by 
the same hooded conveyance backwards and forwards, never without thinking of 
the lazy horse associated with David Copperfield; and, indeed, at times I have felt 
inclined to chalk up in the corner, ‘ Barkis is willin’.’ The carrier usually takes his 
orders the night before, starts at an early hour in the morning, and returns in time 
to supply the dinner-table. Let us suppose that he has brought with him a shoulder 
of mutton, and that, instead of dining late, as is our wont, we, on this particular 
day, dine early. Shortly before our usual dinner hour, we are suddenly alarmed by 
the astounding news, ‘ Oh, mamma, Mr. Smith has arrived; what are we to do ? ’ 
Hospitality is a duty, and were I cynically inclined, I would imagine Mr. Smith to 
be a rich old bachelor uncle, very fond of good living, from whom we had great 
expectations; but I would rather put this supposititious case. Suppose Mr. Smith 
to be an old friend of our father who has seen better days, in which he showed us 
many little acts of kindness. Under these circumstances he is, of all men in the 

2 E 



4 i8 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK 

world, the very last one to whom we should like to give the ‘ cold shoulder.’ What 
is to be done ? 

We will suppose that our housekeeper, or whoever acts as such, has, in antici¬ 
pation of such contingencies, laid in a little stock of tinned goods, which are safely 
put by in the store closet. Having welcomed our guest, and whispered a few words 
to the cook and those willing to assist her, we will calmly sit down to our table, 
take a sheet of paper, and commence as follows :— 

Menu. 

Ox Tail Soup. 

Salmon Mayonnaise. 

Hashed Mutton and Pickled Walnuts. 

Curried Rabbit. 

Asparagus. 

Plum Pudding. Brandy Sauce. 

Jelly in glasses. 

Pine Apple (whole in syrup). 

If the cook is smart, the whole dinner could be served easily within an hour, 
and should one or two of the girls in the house be willing to assist (and who would 
not, under such circumstances ?), the dinner might be sent to table in considerably 
less time. I can imagine some of my readers glancing over the bill of fare I have 
just written, and saying to themselves, ‘ What a lot of saucepans we shall want on 
the fire at the same time ! ’ This, however, is not the case ; for I would remind 
you that one of the first points to learn in connection with the serving of tinned 
meats is that they should be warmed up in the tin before it is opened. We can, 
therefore, perform the astonishing trick of making hot our ox-tail soup, our curried 
rabbit, our asparagus, and our plum pudding in the same saucepan at the same 
time. 

I must, however, commence at the beginning. Our store cupboard is supposed 
to contain the following provisions in tins :—Ox-tail soup, preserved salmon, 
mayonnaise sauce, curried rabbit, asparagus, plum pudding, pine apple in syrup, as 
well as a bottle of jelly. I may, however, mention, with regard to the mayonnaise 
sauce, that should you have a bottle of oil in the house and a couple of eggs, it 
would be better to make some fresh sauce from the egg and oil direct. Our 
cupboard will also contain a bottle of pickled walnuts, a bottle of capers, a bottle 
of olives, and a bottle of anchovies. 

Of course we commence dinner with the soup, unless we happen to have in the 
house a Brunswick sausage, in which case a few thin slices of Brunswick sausage 
may be placed in a plate with a few of the anchovies, capers, olives, and a little pat 
of butter, as there are many persons who like to commence dinner with what is 
known as a hors d'otuvre, and I do not know a better mixture than the one I 
have named. 

But to return to the soup. In my opinion, of all provisions sold in tins at 
present, the soups are the greatest failures. 

This is very much to be regretted; but there is a good old saying, that we must 
always make the best of a bad job. As a rule the thick soups are better than the 
clear, and although I have mentioned ox-tail soup, I will later on give a list of the 
soups from which you may take your choice. Fortunately, all thick soups in tins 




TINNED MEATS. 


419 


can be very greatly improved by a very simple method. Make the thick soup hot in 
the tin, take the tin out of the hot water, open it, and pour the contents into a 
saucepan. Of course, if there are many persons to dinner, it would be necessary 
to warm up two tins, or even more. I will now describe the contents of the tin. 
The soup itself is not exactly thick, nor is it exactly clear. The bones of the tail, 
instead of being surrounded by the meat, are quite bare, and it looks as if the bone 
and the meat had had a quarrel, and they had mutually agreed never to speak to 
one another again, while the bone itself recalls a game known as ‘ knuckle-bones.’ 
To every pint of soup in the saucepan add as follows: a brimming dessertspoonful 
of brown thickening, or what French cooks know as brown roux. This brown 
roux looks like light-coloured chocolate. It keeps good for months, is very cheap, 
very useful, and I will describe how to make it by-and-by. Add, also, a brimming 
teaspoonful of extract of meat and half a glass of sherry. The effect of adding the 
brown roux is that when the roux is crumbled into the soup and gently stirred over 
the fire till it boils, it makes the soup thicker than it was before. It also makes it 
darker in colour, richer in flavour, and makes the divorce between the meat and the 
bone less conspicuous. 

The extract of meat also greatly adds to its nutritious properties, and gives 
additional colour. The sherry gives it flavour. Were I going to take the soup 
myself, I should also add a little cayenne pepper and lemon-juice, but we must be 
very cautious how we use cayenne, unless we know the taste of our guests. 

We will next consider the salmon mayonnaise. As this is all cold, we should 
naturally see to the hot things first, and we will, therefore, suppose that the ox-tail 
soup, the curried rabbit, the asparagus, and the plum pudding are all getting hot in 
the saucepan. First open the tin of salmon. Turn the contents entirely out. If 
there is any liquid, throw it away, and, as far as possible, absorb all the moisture of 
the salmon in a dry cloth before placing it in a dish. Make the surface, as far as 
possible, oval, and raised in the middle, and then pour the sauce with a spoon 
gently over the top, so that it looks like a custard pudding. If the season of the 
year is suitable, and we have some lettuces in our garden, of course we should cut 
one or two lettuces, and surround the salmon with the best part of the lettuce. 
Next to ornament the salad. Take a bottle of capers, and with a spoon take out 
about a couple of dozen, throw these into a cloth and dry them, and place them at 
intervals on the sauce. Then take three or four anchovies out of the bottle, cut 
them into strips, remove the bone, and place these little strips of anchovy round 
the base of the light pyramid of sauce like trelliswork. A dozen olives may be 
placed also round the base of the salad, the stone being removed with a knife. 
This is done by taking not too sharp a knife and cutting the olive sideways, keeping 
the blade of the knife always in contact with the stone of the olive. When the 
stone is removed the olive assumes its original shape, of course with a hole in the 
middle where the stone has been. Now take a little piece of parsley and chop up 
enough, say, to cover a shilling or a little more. Place this on the tip of a knife 
and shake it gently over the mayonnaise sauce, so that the little green specks of 
parsley fall naturally. Now take a bottle of cochineal, supposing you have one- 
cochineal can be bought at sixpence a bottle, and keeps good for months, or even 
years—and drop a few drops in a plate or saucer; take a little piece of dry bread 
and make about a saltspoonful of fine breadcrumbs. Throw these dry breadcrumbs 
into the saucer with the cochineal, and shake them. This will cause the bread- 

2 E 2 





420 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


crumbs to turn red. These can be shaken over the mayonnaise like the chopped 
parsley, and we shall have a very bright-looking dish—the green lettuce round 
the edge, the raised surface of the salmon covered with the yellow mayonnaise sauce 
in the middle, which is decorated round the base with the anchovies and olives, 
and on the top the capers and the little green and red specks, which contrast nicely 
with the yellow. If you have no lettuce or salad of any kind to put round the 
base, you can ornament the edge with hard-boiled eggs cut in quarters, and a sprig 
of parsley between each piece. 

Our next dish is the hashed mutton and pickled walnuts. This scarcely comes 
in the category of tinned meats. The mutton we had for dinner was probably in a 
semi-cold and flabby state when our guest arrived. Were I going to make the 
hashed mutton, I should commence by slicing up a couple of onions, browning 
them in a frying-pan with a little butter, then pouring in the remains of all the 
gravy that had been left from the joint, cutting the mutton into slices, and warming 
them up in this gravy, taking care it does not boil; and as the gravy would be 
rather poor, as soon as the soup was got ready I should add two or three table¬ 
spoonfuls of the soup to the hashed mutton. And let me remind you of another 
very great improvement. Add, as well, a dessertspoonful of Harveys sauce, after 
shaking the bottle. You can toast a piece of bread a nice brown, as you would not 
have time to fry any bread, which is better. Cut the toast into round pieces, and 
place them round the hash alternately with the pickled walnuts cut in half. Do 
not send the hashed mutton to table in a big dish, large enough to hold a round 
of beef, but serve it in a deep dish—a vegetable dish, for instance. By this means 
it keeps hot longer, and looks more appetising. 

Our next dish is the curried rabbit. First-class curry can be obtained in tins. 
Remember that tinned meats are like everything else in the world—some are good, 
and some are bad. If you wish for a bottle of really good wine, you must go to a 
first-class wine merchant; and if you wish your tinned provisions good, you must 
get them from first-class people, or see that some well-known name is on the label. 
Unfortunately, this country has been flooded, from time to time, with worthless 
imitations, introduced by unknown men who have no name to lose. 

The curry, having been made hot in the tin, should be turned out in a deep 
dish ; and here again I would recommend a vegetable dish. Boiled rice should be 
served with it in a separate dish, and the rice should be handed before the curry. 
If you have any chutney in the house, the chutney should be served with the curry, 
like they do on board the P. & O. boats, which are so famed for their Oriental curry 
cooks. When the curry has been turned out into the dish, you might add a few 
fresh bay-leaves and serve them up in the curry whole, and if you feel anxious to 
have the dish ornamental you can proceed as follows, and, should your guest be an 
‘ old Indian,’ he will probably appreciate the addition :—Take some red chilies and 
bend each chili in the middle, so as to make it look like one of the small claws of 
a lobster, and place these red chilies round the edge of the dish in a triangular 
shape, exactly as if you were placing the small claws of a lobster around a lobster- 
salad mayonnaise. 

The asparagus should be served as a course by itself. When the tin is sufficiently 
hot, which it will be a few minutes after the water has boiled, take it out and 
open it, pour off the liquid, and serve the asparagus on a piece of toast. A little 
butter sauce should be handed round with it 



TINNED ME A TS. 


421 


Butter sauce is best made by simply thickening, say, half a pint of water (not 
milk) with a little butter and flour mixed together. When the water is sufficiently 
thick, add some more butter to the hot thickened water till it becomes rich and oily. 

As soon as you have handed round the butter sauce with the asparagus, take 
the tureen downstairs, and let the cook put back the butter sauce in the saucepan 
for a minute, and add a tablespoonful of moist sugar, a tablespoonful of rum, and 
two tablespoonfuls of brandy. By this means we avoid waste, and make the same 
sauce do twice. If you don’t approve of spirits being used in the kitchen (I don’t 
approve of it myself), add a little sherry, and rub a few lumps of sugar on the 
outside of a lemon, and also two drops of essence of almonds. (You can, indeed, 
leave out the sherry, and still have a good sauce.) 

The plum pudding will be hot through after the water has boiled for over half 
an hour. Open the tin, take out the pudding, and serve with a little sauce poured 
over it, and the rest in a tureen. 

The jelly should be served in glasses, for the simple reason that there is no time 
to melt the jelly. Open the bottle, and rake out sufficient jelly with a bent skewer 
to fill the glasses. 

The pine apple, whole, in addition to the usual stock of almonds and raisins, 
figs, biscuits, etc., make a first-class dessert. 

It is perhaps needless to add that as a rule all these dishes are not necessary for 
one dinner; but I wish to show what can be done in order to avoid giving your 
friends the ‘ cold shoulder.’ 

I will now give a few hints on the general management of tinned meats. I will 
also fulfil my promise of describing how to make that most useful article in cooking, 
brown roux, which in my opinion is absolutely essential should we wish to make 
our tinned thick soups a success. 

First let us consider the best way of managing tins, the contents of which are 
generally eaten cold, and do not require warming up. 

Perhaps the two most common examples of tinned provisions are sardines and 
tinned lobster. For very many years sardines have been a popular breakfast dish, and 
the plan has been to open the tin of sardines, and leave the sardines in the tin till 
all are finished. Tinned lobster is a more modem invention, and inexperienced 
housekeepers, from habit, have treated the lobster exactly as they have the sardines, 
viz., they have opened the tin and left the lobster in the tin. I would warn you 
that this method of dealing with tinned lobster is not merely wrong, but absolutely 
dangerous. From time to time reports have arisen on the danger of eating tinned 
goods, and every now and then we hear of cases of persons being ill, who date the 
origin of their illness from eating some species of preserved provision. You would 
do well to bear in mind that the persons to blame are not the makers of the tinned 
goods, but the housekeeper who opens them, and then fails to exercise her common 
sense. Probably every housekeeper is aware of the fact that if you make soup it is 
necessary to turn the soup out in a basin before going to bed. Every cookery-book 
teaches us the fact that if we leave the soup in the saucepan all night long it spoils. 
Why ? Why should soup get bad in a metallic vessel, where it would not get bad 
in a porcelain one ? The answer is very simple—on account of the metal being 
acted on by the air. If you leave a moist knife in the kitchen, in two or three days 
it becomes rusty. Why, then, should we expect meat or fish or food of any kind 
whatever to keep good in a tin, when we know it would not keep good in a tin 




422 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


saucepan ? The fact is, we have never thought about it at all. But I do not think 
I need enlarge upon the subject, as, if you have any common sense, a hint will be 
sufficient, and if you have no common sense, it is useless to attempt to reason with 
you. Therefore bear this one most important point in mind—whenever you open any 
kind of tinned provision, turn it out of the tin directly the tin is opened ; otherwise 
it will instantly commence to undergo a chemical change, which becomes stronger 
the longer it is opened. Some persons, perhaps, will say, How is it that we have 
been in the habit for years, perhaps, of opening sardines, and have never experienced 
any inconvenience whatever? The simple reason is that the sardines are preserved 
in oil, and that the oil prevents the action of the air on the metal. To explain my 
meaning, you may try the following experiment:—Take two bright knives; dip one 
in water and the other in thick oil. Leave the two knives for three or four days. 
The one dipped in water will be covered with rust, owing to the action of the air on 
the metal (perhaps some of you are sufficiently acquainted with chemistry to know 
what I mean by saying that the metal oxidises) ; the knife that has been dipped in 
oil, on being wiped, will be found as bright as it was before, owing to the action of 
the air on the metal being prevented by the oil. 

Space will not allow of my giving a list of all the nice little delicacies that are" 
now preserved in tins, but I will mention a few—potted beef, ham, tongue, chicken, 
turkey, etc. Then there are pork patties in tins, savoury patties, Oxford brawn, 
while, if you wish to have what may be termed higher class delicacies, there is pate 
de foie gras, as well as truffled woodcock, lark, snipe, plover, partridges, quails, etc., 
all of which are sold in tins, the tins being rather more than a half-a-crown apiece. 
If we take one of these tins and open it in the ordinary manner, leaving the tin 
half on as a lid, it is by no means an elegant-looking dish, whereas if we cut the 
tin entirely round the edge and take the top off, then make a little hole the other 
side, in order to let the air get in, we can turn the whole of the contents of the tin 
out in a shape exactly as we could turn jelly out of a copper mould. The tin of 
potted beef, if that is what we have, can be turned out on an ornamental piece of 
paper placed in the middle of a dish. The dish can then be ornamented with a 
little bright green parsley, and a little cut lemon, and can be made to look really 
appetising. In fact, there is no more excuse for sending potted meat to table in 
the tin than there would be for sending a mould of jelly to table in the mould. 
What would you say, if you were asked out to a dinner, were the man to hand round 
the mould of jelly in the mould, and you were to scoop it out with a spoon ? and 
yet this is what you have virtually done over and over again at breakfast. 

I will now give you a list of the different kinds of soups that can be obtained in 
tins, and will explain how to make brown roux, which is used for improving every 
kind of thick soup, and also show how thin soups may be improved. The fofiowing 
soups may be obtained in tins : real turtle soup, game, grouse, oyster, hare, chicken 
broth, giblet, hotch potch, kidney, mulligatawny, mock turtle, ox cheek, ox tail 
(thick and clear), tomato, cressy, gravy, green pea, julienne, mutton broth, Palestine, 
bouilli, vegetable, venison, and vermicelli. 

Brown roux is simply flour fried brown in butter. Probably most cooks have 
heard of the ordinary method of thickening soups with flour. The result is that the 
soup has a gruelly taste. If, however, the flour is fried a light brown before it is 
used for thickening the soup, it produces quite a different effect. In fact, in one 
case the flour is cooked, and in the other case it is raw, and the difference in the 



TINNED MEATS. 


423 


flavour is as great as that between a dish of pastry before it is put in the oven to be 
baked, and afterwards. You all know what a nice thing a rich piece of pie-crust is, 
especially if it be made from puff paste. Of course, before it was put in the oven 
to be baked it would be absolutely uneatable. So with our brown roux. If you 
wish to make it properly, proceed as follows : Take, if possible, an enamelled stew- 
pan, and place in it half a pound of butter and melt it. When the butter has run 
to oil, you will find that there is a sediment at the bottom, which looks something 
like milk, as, indeed, it is, as also a frothy scum at the top; skim this off, and then 
pour off the oiled butter into a basin and throw away the sediment. Now add to 
this clarified butter, which should have the appearance of good salad oil, half a 
pound of dry flour. Remember that you cannot fry anything properly unless it be 
first thoroughly dry. The flour and butter will form a sort of pudding, and you 
must stir this pudding over the fire with a spoon until the pudding begins to turn a 
light brown. As soon as it is turned a light brown colour, take the stewpan off the 
fire, but go on stirring. As the stewpan keeps hot a long time, the flour will go on 
cooking for quite a quarter of an hour after it has been taken off the fire. You 
can if you like slacken the heat by throwing in a piece of onion. Of course, the 
onion will very soon turn brown itself. When the brown flour or roux has got 
comparatively cool, put it into a basin or small jar, and put it by for use. You will 
find it most convenient to make this in sufficient quantity to last, say, for a month. 
It will keep good for almost any length of time. 

Every kind of thick soup sold in tins will be greatly improved by a good 
dessertspoonful of this brown roux being added to each pint of soup after the tin 
has been opened and the contents poured into a small saucepan. In addition to 
brown roux, you must add a good-sized teaspoonful of extract of meat. Recollect 
the brown roux should be crumbled into the soup, and the soup should be allowed 
to boil for a few minutes, in order that it may get thick. 

Of course we cannot use brown roux for clear soups. Now these clear soups 
are undoubtedly, as a rule, very poor. I would suggest the following means of 
improving them. Add first of all a brimming teaspoonful of extract of meat, then 
to every pint of clear soup take a teaspoonful of cornflour. Mix the cornflour with 
a little cold water in a cup, say a dessertspoonful of cold water, or a little more, 
and while the soup is boiling in the saucepan add the cornflour to it. You do not 
wish to make the soup thick, as could be done by adding a large quantity of corn¬ 
flour, but by adding a small quantity you give it what may be called a consistency. 
The soup, instead of being as thin as water, is more like milk, and although the 
soup is not in reality any richer, it conveys the idea of being exceedingly good. 
Another method of improving clear tinned soups in flavour is by the addition of 
celery. If you have a head of celery in the house, take a small stick, and with a 
knife cut it into very thin slices indeed. Boil this in the soup, and you will find 
that it will improve the flavour very considerably, that is, if the soup contains other 
kinds of vegetables. Another method is to boil a couple of beads of garlic in the 
clear soup ; but then many persons object to the flavour of garlic. Still, if garlic is 
used with care it is not nearly so objectionable as many people think. There is a 
strong prejudice against the use of garlic in this country; but I believe this prejudice 
is brought about by the fact that English cooks as a rule do not understand how to 
use it. Garlic should be used to impart a slight favour, and should rarely if ever 
be chopped up to be eaten. 




424 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


I will now go on to another class of preserved provisions, viz., fish. Sardines 
and pilchards are preserved in oil, and are very nice eaten just as they are, only 
bear in mind that cut lemon and cayenne pepper is a very great improvement to 
them in their natural state. 

Avery simple method of having a nice dish in a hurry for breakfast or for dinner 
can be made as follows :—Open a tin of sardines or a tin of pilchards, pour the oil 
of the tin into a frying-pan, and add to it a brimming teaspoonful or more of curry 
powder, moistened in a little water. Add a teaspoonful of cornflour, also moistened 
in a little water. Stir the whole for a time till you get a thick, oily gravy. Now 
add the fish, either sardines or pilchards, and gradually make them hot in this 
quickly-made curry sauce, and with a spoon keep pouring the sauce over the fish. 
You must be careful not to break the fish. As soon as the fish are thoroughly 
hot through, take them out of the frying-pan with a slice similar to that you use 
for taking out fried eggs, place them on a hot dish, and scrape all the oily curry 
gravy over the top. 

Some few years ago great things were expected from what was called the 
Australian meat in tins. Since the introduction of frozen meat, we have heard 
a great deal less about meat in tins. Still, these tins are very useful to persons 
living in out-of-the way places in the country, where frozen meat would be just as 
difficult to obtain as ordinary butchers’ meat. Australian meat varies very much in 
quality. As a rule, you will find that unless the meat is surrounded by a good deal 
of jelly it is not worth having at all. When the Australian meat has plenty of jelly 
with it, and you can turn it out in a solid lump, I am not sure but what the best 
method is to have it as it is—cold. It wants cutting with a very sharp knife indeed. 
It is very light of digestion. You can send it to table just as it is, surrounded with 
the white part of a lettuce, placed alternately with beetroot. Australian meat can, 
however, be sent to table hot, and there are several ways of doing it. One 
method is to make it into an Irish stew. Warm the tin just sufficiently to melt the 
jelly, pour off all the jelly into a saucepan, and slice up half-a-dozen good-sized 
onions and boil them in the jelly. Boil, say, an equal weight of potatoes to meat, 
also separately, in some water. Then place the hot cooked potatoes, the tender- 
boiled onions, and gravy with the meat in a saucepan, and as soon as the meat is hot 
through send it to table. The reason why we proceed this way is that the draw¬ 
back to Australian meat is that it is already over-cooked; consequently, you must 
avoid cooking it more than can be helped. 

Tinned meat can also be made into curry in a similar way—that is, after you 
have melted the jelly you pour it off and use it to make some strong, rich curry 
sauce. The meat should then be placed in the curry sauce and served as soon as 
it is hot through. The meat should be shredded with a couple of silver forks, so 
that the curry can be eaten with a fork. 

Australian meat can also be used for making a meat pie. To make a good 
meat pie, you must melt the jelly, pour it into a saucepan, and boil with it six 
beads of garlic, and also add some gelatine, to make the jelly when cold nice and 
firm. In fact, it should be quite as firm as an ordinary mould of jelly. Now place 
the Australian meat in a pie-dish, pour the gravy over it, and place a few very thin 
slices of bacon on the top. You can also mix with the pie a teaspoonful of chopped 
parsley, and be sure to add plenty of. black pepper. Few cooks realise what a large 
amount of black pepper is required for a meat pie. You can also add to the pie 




GLOSSARY OF COOKERY TERMS. 


425 


half-a-dozen hard-boiled eggs cut in halves. Now cover the pie-dish over with the 
crust, and bake it in the oven. As soon as the pastry is done, the pie is done; 
the meat, as I have said before, is already over-cooked. Try and manage to keep 
by you a little of the gravy, and when the pie is cold, add the remainder. Pour 
this gravy into the pie through the top, and fill the gravy up so that it reaches 
the crust. Remember, this pie can only be eaten cold. If you use garlic in a 
meat pie, you cannot cut the pie while it is hot. The gravy should be poured in 
when it is nearly set. 


EXPLANATION OF FRENCH AND OTHER TERMS USED IN 

MODERN COOKERY. 

Allemande. —Concentrated white veloutd (see veloute) sauce, seasoned with 
nutmeg and lemon-juice, and thickened with yolks of eggs and cream. 

Afigelica .—A plant, the stalks of which are preserved with sugar; as it retains its 
green colour it is pretty for ornamenting sweet dishes, cakes, etc. 

Appareil. —This word is applicable to a preparation composed of various 
ingredients, as appareil de gateau (mixture for a cake). 

Aspic. —Name given to clear savoury jelly, to distinguish it from sweet jelly. 
Cold entrees, which are moulded and have the ingredients set in jelly, are also 
called aspics. 

Assiette volante. —A small dish (holding no more than a plate) which is handed 
round the table without ever being placed on it. Things that must be eaten very 
hot are often served in this way. Little savouries, foie-gras, or cheese fondus in 
paper cases are thus handed. 

Au bleu. —An expensive way of boiling fish. A broth is made by boiling three 
onions, two carrots, two turnips, some parsley, pepper, salt, sufficient water, a 
tumbler of white wine, and a tumbler of vinegar together; the scum is removed as 
it rises, the fish is simmered in the broth. This broth is called Court bouillon. 
Fish cooked thus is eaten hot or cold, with suitable sauce. 

Baba. —A Polish cake of a very light description, 

Bain marie. —A sort of bath-saucepan, which stands on a stove with hot water 
in it, and has small bright saucepans stood in the water for the contents to cook 
slowly without reducing or spoiling them. A bain marie has no cover. 

Bande. —The strip of paste that is put round a tart; sometimes the word is also 
applied to a strip of paper or bacon. 

Barde de lard. —A slice of bacon. To harder a bird is to fasten a slice of bacon 
over it. 

Bechamel sauce. —Equal quantities of veloute sauce and cream boiled together. 
The sauce was named after a celebrated cook. 

Beignets .—F ritters. 

Beurre noir. —Butter stirred in a frying-pan over a brisk fire until it is brown, 
then lemon-juice or vinegar and pepper and salt are added to it. 

Beurre fondus. —Melted, that is to say, oiled, butter. 

Bigarade sauce. —Melted butter, with the thin rind and the juice of a Seville 
orange boiled in it. 





426 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Blanch. —To parboil or scald. To whiten meat or poultry, or remove the skins 
of fruit or vegetables by plunging them into boiling water, and then sometimes 
putting them into cold water afterwards, as almonds are blanched. 

Blanquette. —A kind of fricassde. 

Boudin. —A very delicate entree prepared with quenelle forcemeat or with fine 
mince. 

Bouqjiet garni. —A handful of parsley, a sprig of thyme, a small bay leaf, and 
six green onions, tied securely together with strong thread. 

Bouilli. —Boiled meat; but fresh beef, well boiled, is generally understood 
by this term. 

Bouillie. —A sort of hasty pudding. Bouillie-au-lait is flour and milk boiled 
together. 

Bouillon. —Thin broth or soup. 

Braise. —To stew meat that has been previously blanched very slowly, with 
bacon or other fat, until it is tender. 

Braisiere. —A saucepan with a lid with a rim to it, on which lighted charcoal 
can be put. 

B rider. —To put thin string or thread through poultry, game, etc., to keep it in 
shape. 

Brioche. —A sort of light cake, rather like Bath bun, but not sweet, having as 
much salt as sugar in it. 

Brandy butter. —Fresh butter, sugar, and brandy beaten together to a cream. 

Caramel. —Made by melting a little loaf sugar in a saucepan, and as soon as it 
is brown, before it burns, adding some water to it. Sometimes used as a colouring 
for stews. Made into a syrup by adding more sugar after the water, it is a very 
good pudding sauce. 

Casserole .—A stew-pan. The name given to a crust of rice moulded in the 
shape of a pie, then baked with mince or a pure'e of game in it. 

Cerner. —Is to cut paste half way through with a knife or cutter, so that part 
can be removed when cooked to make room for something else. 

Charlotte. —Consists of very thin slices of bread, steeped in oiled butter, and 
placed in order in a mould, which is then filled with fruit or preserve. 

Chartreuse of vegetables. —Consists of vegetables tastefully arranged in a plain 
mould, which is then filled with either game, pigeons, larks, tendons, scollops, or 
anything suitably prepared. 

Chartreuse a la Parisie?ine .—An ornamental dish made principally with quenelle 
forcemeat, and filled with some kind of ragout, scollops, etc. 

Chausse .—A jelly bag. 

Compote. —Fruits preserved in syrup. Apple and any other kind of fruit jelly. 
This term is also used to designate some savoury dishes, prepared with larks, quails, 
or pigeons, with truffles, mushrooms, or peas. 

Consomm'e. —Strong and clear broth used as a basis for many soups and gravies. 

Conti (potage ).—Lentil soup. 

Contise .—Small scollops of truffles; red tongue, or other things that are with a 
knife inlaid in fillets of any kind to ornament them, are said to be contises. 

Coui't bouillo?i. —See Au bleu. 

Croquettes. —A preparation of minced or pounded meat, or of potatoes or rice, 
with a coating of breadcrumbs. Croquettes means something crisp. 




GLOSSARY OF COOKERY TERMS . 


427 


Croquantes. —Fruit with sugar boiled to crispness. 

Croustades. —An ornamental pie-case, sometimes made of shaped bread, and 
filled with mince, etc. 

Croutons .—Sippets of bread fried in butter; used to garnish. They are various 
sizes and shapes; sometimes served with soups. 

Cuilleree. —A spoonful. In most French recipes I have found ten spoonfuls 
equal to a quarter of a pint of fluid. 

Cuisson. —The name given to the liquid in which anything has been cooked. 

Danole. —A sort of cake served hot. The name of small round moulds in 
which various little cakes are baked or puddings steamed. 

Daubiere. —An oval stewpan in which daubes are cooked. Daubes are meat 
or fowl stewed in sauce. 

E'egorger. —To soak in water for a longer or shorter time. 

Des. —Very small square dice. 

Desosser. —To bone: to remove the bones from fish, meat, game or 
poultry. 

Eorer. —To paint the surface of tarts or cakes with a brush, with egg or sugar, 
so that they may be glazed when cooked. 

Dorure. —The glaze one uses for pastry; sometimes beaten white of egg, some¬ 
times yolk of egg and cold water, sometimes sugar only. 

Entrees. —A name for side dishes, such as cutlets, fricassees, fricandeaux, sweet¬ 
breads, etc. , 

Entrees (cold).—Consist of cutlets, fillets of game, poultry, etc.; salads of 
various kinds, aspics, ham, and many other things. 

Entremets. —Second course side dishes. They are of four kinds—namely, cold 
entrees, dressed vegetables, scalloped shellfish, or dressed eggs, and lastly, sweets 
of any kind, puddings, jellies, creams, fritters, pastry, etc. 

Escalopes. —Collops; small round pieces of meat or fish, beaten with a steak 
beater before they are cooked, to make them tender. 

Espagnole. —Rich, strong stock made with beef, veal and ham, flavoured with 
vegetables, and thickened with brown roux. This and veloute are the two main 
sauces from which nearly all others are made. The espagnole for brown, the 
veloute for white.' 

Eta??ii?ie. —See Tammy. 

Etuver. —To stew meat with little moisture, and over a very slow fire, or with 
hot cinders over and under the saucepan. 

Faggot. —A bouquet garni. 

Fanchonettes and florentines. —Varieties of small pastry, covered with white of 
egg and sugar. 

Faire tomber a glace. —Means to boil down stock or gravy until it is as thick as 
glaze, and is coloured brown. 

Farce. —Is ordinary forcemeat, such as is used for raised pies. 

Feuil etage. —Very light puff paste. 

Flamber. —To singe fowls and game after they have been plucked. 

Flans. —A flan is made by rolling a piece of paste out rather larger than the 
tin in which it is to be baked, then turning up the edge of the paste to form a sort 
of wall round. Flans are filled with fruit or preserve, and baked. 

Foncer. —To put slices of ham or bacon in the bottom of a saucepan, to line a 




428 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


mould with raw paste, or to put the first layer of anything in a mould—it may be 
a layer of white paper. 

Fontaine. —A heap of flour with a hollow in the middle, into which to pour the 
water. 

Fondu. —Or fondue. A cheese souffld 

Fricandeau. —Fillets of poultry or the best pieces of veal, neatly trimmed, 
larded, and well glazed, with their liquor reduced to glaze. They are served as 
entrees. 

Fricassee. —A white stew, generally made with chicken and white sauce, to 
which mushrooms or other things may be added. 

Fraiser .—A way of handling certain pastry to make it more compact and easier 
to work. 

Fremir frissonner. —To keep a liquid just on the boil—what is called 
simmering. 

Galette. —A broad flat cake. 

Gateau. —Cake. This word is also used for some kinds of tarts, and for 
different puddings. A gateau is also made of pig’s liver; it is therefore rather 
difficult to define what a ‘ gateau ’ is. 

Gaufres. —Or wafers. Light spongy biscuits cooked in irons over a stove. 

Glacer. —To glaze; to brush hot meat or poultry over with concentrated meat 
gravy or sauce, so that it shall have a brown and shiny appearance. Glaze can be 
bought in skins. Glacer, in confectionery, means to ice pastry or fruit with sugar. 

Gniocchi. —Small balls of paste made with flour, eggs, and cheese, to put into 
soup. 

Gramme .—A French weight. An ounce avoirdupois is nearly equal to thirty 
grammes. 

Gras .—Made with meat and fat. 

Gratins (au). —Term applied to certain dishes of fish, game, poultry, vegetables, 
and macaroni dressed with rich sauces, and generally finished with bread-crumbs 
or bread-raspings over the top. 

Gratiner .—-Is to brown by heat, almost burn. 

Grenadins .—Similar to a fricandeau, but smaller; grenadins are served with 
vegetable purges. 

Hors doeuvres (hot).—A species of very light entrees, such as small patties, ox- 
piths, brains, cocks’ combs, croquettes, etc. 

Hors doeuvres (cold).—Sardines, anchovies, prawns, tunny, prepared herrings, 
savouiy butters, radishes, caviare, and many other things are served as hors d’ceuvres. 
They should be eaten immediately after the soup and fish, as they are considered as 
appetisers. 

Jardimlre. —A mixed preparation of vegetables cut in dice or, more generally, 
fancy shapes—small balls, diamonds, etc.—and stewed in their own sauce, with a 
little butter, sugar, and salt. 

Juliemie. —Vegetables cut in very thin strips, and used for soup; also in some 
ways of cooking fish and meat 

Jus. —The gravy that runs from roast meat, or strong, good gravy made from 
meat. 

Kilograinme is equal to two pounds and one-fifth of a pound avoirdupois. It con¬ 
tains 1,000 grammes, so one generally takes 500 grammes as equal to one pound. 




GLOSSARY OF COOKERY TERMS. 


429 


Laitance. —Soft rows of fish. 

Larder. —Larder is sometimes confounded with piquer. Larder is to stick 
pieces of ham, tongue, truffles, or bacon into meat or poultry, after making little 
holes in it to receive them, so that when it is cut it looks marbled, and the meat 
gains in flavour from the truffles or whatever it may be that is inserted. 

* Lit. —A bed or layer; articles in thin slices with seasoning or other things 
placed between them. 

Liaison. —Thickening. By this word is understood a thickening made with one 
or more yolks of eggs. They are used for many sauces and some soups; sometimes 
a little cream or milk is added to them. 

Litre. —A French measure, equal to a pint and a half English measure. 

Luting. —A paste made of flour and water only, and used for fastening down the 
lids of fireproof pans and jars when preserving game, etc., in them, so as to prevent 
evaporation. 

Macaroncini. —A small kind of macaroni, larger than vermicelli. 

Macedoine. —Vegetables prepared and cooked as for jardinilre, but with the 
addition of some white sauce to them. 

Macedoine of fruit.—Mixed fruits in jelly. 

Madeleine. —Very like queen cake. 

Maigre. —Without meat; sauces, soups, or broths made with vegetables, etc., 
but without meat or meat stock. 

Maitre d'hotel. —A sauce made with white sauce, parsley, and lemon-juice, if to 
use hot; if cold, it is made by kneading butter, parsley, and lemon-juice together. 
Made thus, it is often put on fillet or rump steaks before they are sent to table. 

Manier. —This word is applied to the preparation of butter or other fat used for 
making different kinds of paste. It consists in pressing the fat in a cloth until it is 
quite soft and all the moisture is removed from it. 

Massepains .—Sweetmeats made from almond paste (similar to that put over 
wedding cakes), cut or moulded into shapes, and glazed on the outsides. They are 
easy to make, and very nice for dessert. 

Matelotte. —A rich and expensive fish stew, made properly of mixed fresh-water 
fish, but sometimes of only one kind. Trout, eels, or carp are most used. Wine 
enters largely into the composition of this dish. 

Marinades .—Cooked marinade is prepared with vinegar, water, vegetables, 
parsley, herbs, and bay leaves. If it is not cooked, it consists of chopped onions, 
parsley, herbs, oil, and lemon-juice, or vinegar. Marinade is a pickle. 

Mayomiaise. —Yolks of eggs worked into a stiff cream by slowly dropping oil 
and vinegar into them as they are stirred. 

Masarines. —Ornamented entre'es made of forcemeats, with either fillets of fish 
or pieces of chicken or game. 

Menu. —A bill of fare. 

Meringue. —A kind of sweetmeat or icing, made by beating whites of eggs and 
sugar to snow, and then baking in a slow oven. 

Mignonette Pepper. —A preparation of either black or white peppercorns, which, 
after being broken in a mortar to about the size of mignonette-seed, is sifted to 
remove the dust from it. 

Minestrone. —Clear stock, with peas, rice, carrots and tomato sauce in it, served 
with grated Parmesan cheese. 



43 ° 


THE GIRLS OWL INDOOR BOOK. 


Mirepoix. —A compound used to impart flavour to braised meats. 

Miroton. —Pieces of meat larger than collops, such as would be put in a 
stew. 

Mitonner. —Same as mijoter; to simmer or cook very slowly. 

Mouiller. —To add liquor to anything. 

Nougats. —A mixture of baked almonds and boiled sugar. 

Nouilles. —Paste made of yolks of eggs and flour, which is cut in fine strips like 
vermicelli. 

Panada .—A preparation of sopped bread wrung in a cloth, then cooked with 
butter, or of flour, water, and butter. Panada of bread or of flour is needed in the 
preparation of many forcemeats. 

Paner. —To cover meat or anything else with very fine breadcrumbs before 
broiling, frying, or baking it. 

Panure. —Scollops, croquettes, cutlets, or any other entree that is breadcrumbed 
or pand 

Papillottes (en). —Cooked in buttered papers. 

Piping. —This is the name given to the sugar work used for ornamenting cakes y 
tartlets, etc. It is done by working white of egg and fine sugar together, and then 
pressing the sugar through a sort of funnel. An india-rubber implement is made 
for this purpose, which is much easier to use than a tin one. 

Piquer. —To lard; that is to say, to put strips of bacon fat in a larding-needle 
and draw the needle through the surface of the meat or game, so that the two ends 
of each strip of bacon stick out. 

Pluche. —The leaves of parsley, tarragon, chervil, lettuce, or sorrel broken or 
cut into small pieces—not chopped. They are mixed or used separately. The 
word is sometimes spelled with an ‘ s,’ instead of a ‘ c.’ 

Poivradc. —A sauce made with pepper, vinegar, shalots, bunch of parsley, salt,, 
and broth. 

Poel'ee , or Poele. —A braise or stock used for boiling turkeys, fowls, sweetbreads, 
etc., to render them less insipid. It is made from suet, veal, vegetable, lemon-pulp, 
water, etc. 

Poele. —A pan, a frying-pan, or a stove. 

Pot-au-feu. —Soup with boiled meat. 

Potiron. —Pumpkin soup. 

Profitrolles. —Pastry of a very light kind, filled with custard, whipped cream, or 
prepared chocolate, etc. 

Puree. —Meat or vegetables that have been sufficiently cooked and then rubbed 
through a sieve. A puree retains its name when sufficient stock is added to it to 
form a thick sauce or soup. 

Quenelles. —A delicate kind of forcemeat used in the preparation of various 
entrees. It is made usually of poultry, game, or fish, with panada, rich sauces, or 
yolks of eggs, etc. 

Ragout. —A stew; sometimes a very rich dish, sometimes little more than a 
hash. 

Ravioles. —Kind of rissoles made in nouilles paste, served with Parmesan cheese 
over them, or in soup. 

Ravigotte. —Mayonnaise with chopped cress, parsley, tarragon, chervil, and 
chives added to it. 




GLOSSARY OF COOKERY TERMS. 


43 * 


Releves , or Removes. —The dishes that, when put on table, would take the places 
of the soup and fish. 

RZmoulade .—A salad dressing made with parsley, tarragon, chervil, chives, 
capers, anchovies, mustard, oil, and vinegar. 

Rissoles. —Light puff pastry filled with meat, fish, or sweets, and boiled in fat of 
some kind. 

Roux. —Brown roux (used for thickening) is made by frying butter and flour 
together until of a nice brown colour. White roux is made in the same way, but 
the flour must be cooked well without being allowed to colour. It is best made in 
a saucepan, and should be stirred all the time over a moderate fire. Sometimes 
flour is baked, then mixed with butter, for roux. 

Salpicon. —Poultry, fish, or other things prepared with truffles, etc., for croust- 
ades, timbales, croquettes, etc. 

Salmi. —A highly-finished hash of cooked game or wild-fowl, cut up and 
prepared with rich sauce or made gravy. 

Saute. —To fry cutlets, scollops of game, poultry, or fish, etc., lightly in butter. 

Sautoir. —A very shallow stewpan used for sautes. 

Souffle. —The word means something puffed up. Souffles are very light 
puddings. They may be made with any kind of farinaceous substance, with the 
addition of well-beaten eggs flavoured with fruits, liqueurs, or essences. They 
must be served the moment they are ready. They can also be made with fruit- 
iced souffles are made in various ways; but the mixture is iced, instead of baked. 

Sparghetti. —Naples vermicelli. 

Stock. —Unthickened broth or gravy, with which soups or sauces can be made. 

Tartare. —Mayonnaise, with the addition of chopped shalots, gherkins, tarragon,, 
chervil, and a little chili vinegar and mustard. 

Tamis , or Tammy. —A cloth made for straining through. It should be of goat’s 
hair, but is frequently only woollen canvas. 

Timbale is a sort of pie made in a mould and turned out before it is sent to 
table. 

Tourner is used for stir; but it also means to turn—that is to say, to shape, as 
cutting vegetables into the form of olives, balls, pears, etc. 

Tourte. —A delicate sort of tart, baked usually in a shallow tin. It may contain 
fish, meat, or fruit. 

Trousser. —To truss. 

Truffer. —To stuff with truffles. This is generally for pheasants, turkeys, or capons. 

Turbans. —Ornamental entrees made of game, poultry, or fish, and forcemeats. 

Veloute. —The white sauce used as a basis for so many others. It is rich double 
stock, made with veal, poultry, ham, vegetables, etc., and thickened with flour and 
butter. It must always be white. 

Vol-au-vent. —Puff paste of the lightest kind, filled with a delicate ragout or 
fricassee. Fruit may also be enclosed in a vol-au-vent crust. 

Vinaigrette. —Oil, vinegar, pepper, and salt together. 

Water-souchet. —A simple way of dressing fish by boiling it with parsley roots 
and leaves, and pepper and salt, and serving it in its own broth, with plates of 
brown bread-and-butter. 

Zeste .—Lemon rind. Sometimes orange and Seville orange rind are called ‘ zested 

Zita. —Naples macaroni. 



CHAPTER X.—GIRLS’ WORK IN LITERATURE. 


THE ART OF LETTER-WRITING. 

N sitting down to write a letter the first thing you should 
do is to ask yourself—‘ How shall I best please the indi¬ 
vidual to whom I write ? What will interest her most ? 
How may I relieve her of any feeling of anxiety ? ’ Put 
these questions to yourself, and use your common sense ; 
and be sure your letter will gratify the receiver. The 
writing of one with such an end in view occupies time 
well spent; and you will have carried out faithfully the 
second grand principle—‘ Whatsoever thy hand findeth 
to do, do it with thy might.’ 

First of all, you should never lay aside your dictionary 
till your spelling difficulties are all mastered. Our lan¬ 
guage is very arbitrary, and there is no absolute rule as 
regards the dropping or retention of the middle ‘ e ’ of 
words that end with ‘ able,’ and those also that end with 
‘ment’; and in the doubling of ‘t’s,’ ‘r’s,’ ‘l’s,’ and £ p’s.’ If you have a letter to 
write, no matter to whom, look out every word rather than spell incorrectly; the 
trouble taken will impress it on your memory. 

As regards the writing itself, remember that it is a vulgar, ill-bred thing to do to 
form your letters incorrectly; it is not only an evidence of bad taste and awkward¬ 
ness, but it is an act of discourtesy to the person addressed. It seems as though you 
thought that any scrawl would be sufficiently good, and you put your friend to 
inconvenience when giving the trouble of deciphering your unsightly hieroglyphics. 
It cannot be polite to give needless trouble; and thus, in sending an ill-written 
and ill-spelt letter, you have broken that great ‘ law of kindness,’ which is the very 
foundation of all ‘ good breeding.’ Do not let a silly feeling of vanity induce you 
to make ‘pothooks and hangers’ after your own eccentric fancy, nor elaborate 
flourishes, which only occupy needless space, and spoil the style of your writing. 
When you can copy the copper-plate pattern given in your copy-books with perfect 
facility, then take some good running hand that you admire, and imitate what you 
please in that, to modify a little the copy-book style which you have acquired. 

Having accomplished the difficulties of spelling and of caligraphy, you should 
practise the writing of ordinary notes, such as those of invitation or acceptation of 
evening entertainments. Turn the sentences, and say the same thing in every 
possible variety of way; but take care to complete your sentences, leave nothing 
elliptical nor equivocal. Avoid all abbreviations, such as ‘ I’m,’ ‘ yr,’ ‘ wd,’ and so 
forth, it is a kind of impertinent familiarity; a free-and-easy style that is by no means 
ladylike, nor even respectful. 

You may very naturally ask why I pronounce abbreviations to be vulgar. I 













A RE-PERUSAL 


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THE ART OF LETTER-WRITING . 


435 


may explain the reason by comparing the off-hand style of representing a word of 
half-a-dozen letters by two, to the recognition of an acquaintance by a short nod of 
the head instead of a polite bow. Suppose yourself ushered into a drawing-room, 
and instead of a graceful inclination, imagine yourself giving a short nod to the 
assembled guests, in return to their courteous salutations. How unseemly it would 
be, I scarcely need to say; and the same rule that forbids the one breach of 
politeness, forbids the others. Why? Because it is an impertinent familiarity 
which, uninvited, you force upon others. To be guilty of this, is to lower yourself, 
and detract from that respectful regard which you might all win ; more than this—it 
is offensive to others. 

But there are few rules that admit of no exceptions, and while abbreviations are 
ill-bred in a private letter, they are quite admissible in trade correspondence. ‘ Time 
is money/ and neither familiarity nor discourtesy is understood by short signs and 
diminished words, written at the utmost speed, in these days when steam carriages 
cannot convey our business messages sufficiently fast, and telegraphs and telephones 
are brought into requisition. 

Avoid slang expressions in writing as much as in speaking. Try to write sound 
grammatical English, if you cannot attain to a still higher and more elegant style. 
There is an evidence of a want of self-respect in writing or speaking in a careless, 
slip-slop, anyhow manner. Do not end your sentences with little pronouns, nor ever 
confound the imperfect tense with the past participle, and make no mistakes about 
the subjunctive mood. 

I am not going to give you a lesson in grammar; you have one at home, and 
need only to study it with attention, to understand the allusions to it which I have 
made, and to know as much about it as I can tell you. 

Having mastered the first three difficulties in the way of letter-writing—difficulties 
which you are disposed to weigh far too lightly—the subject-matter of your letter, 
and the mode of address is next to be considered. 

Punctuation is little understood by ordinary letter-writers, and it occasions much 
difficulty to the reader. Besides, the meaning of a sentence may be completely 
altered, or, at least, mystified, by placing a stop in the wrong place. Always place 
commas before and after a parenthesis, and never forget your full stops. If the ‘i’ 
needed not a dot, and the ‘t’ a cross, you would not have been taught to add them. 
In any case, your business is to make your writing as legible as possible, so as to save 
all trouble to the reader. 

And now I will suppose that, prepared at all points so far, you are waiting, pen 
in hand, to commence an epistle. Collect your thoughts for a moment. If not a 
little note, the date must be written at the top of the page, and your present address 
in full, which latter must never be omitted in any letter, as former letters may be 
mislaid and the address forgotten, and so the omission on your part may give trouble 
and delay an answer. Should a journey or sickness be in question, you should give 
the hour, as well as the day—for good news at a certain time of the day might give 
hope of permanent recovery, and show some crisis to be past; and if you have just 
arrived from a journey, those you have left behind will like to know all such little 
particulars. Remember that nothing is insignificant to those who care for you, 
' and nothing should be too troublesome for you to do to reward their interest and 
affection. Do not make your letter like a washerwoman’s list or a grocer’s bill, by 
writing the year with a long stroke, and the last two figures only, nor substitute a 

2 F 2 




43& 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


mere numeral for the name of the current month. This is a very vulgar style—> 
write it in full. 

The superscription being now completed, we begin with the first part of your 
letter. Consider to whom you are writing: if to one of your own immediate family— 
father, mother, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, or grand-parents, never omit the word 
‘ my,’ whether it be followed only with ‘ dear,’ or any term of a more demonstrative 
character; it is due to the near tie of blood, and it would be in extremely bad taste 
to omit it. Consider, if you have just left home, what news will be most welcome, 
/.<?., that of your safe arrival, a little account of the journey, of your reception, of 
how your hosts are, and whom you have met, how you are lodged, and what plans, 
if any, have been formed for your business arrangements or for your entertainment 
Let your writing be clear, let the size of your hand be suited to the reader for whom 
it is designed. If an old person (as for a child), it should be larger than for any one 
else; otherwise let it rather be small and round than large and scrawled. I have 
seen many hands that would cover the whole length of a line with two words; they 
should be very significant, and contain very good news indeed to be worth so much 
valuable space! It is so disappointing to those who care for the news you could 
send, to see an empty sheet of paper; which, had the writer been more thought¬ 
fully kind, and willing to take a little trouble to please, might have given so much 
satisfaction to a whole family party. 

The second part of your letter should be devoted to inquiries and expressions of 
interest about those you have left behind. Were any of them ailing in health ? 
Were any otherwise in anxiety or distress? Had any one of them engaged in 
any work or enterprise ? Is there anything which you might do for them in your 
absence ? Make your inquiries, express your sympathy, offer your services, or give 
your advice, if seemly so to do. Let them see that you are not wholly absorbed 
with your own amusements and personal interests, that you do not send them any 
sort of an epistle, just because you had to write, and evidently grudged the miserable 
pittance of news and of time you squeezed out of your ample leisure to write. Alas ! 
how often has a letter of this sorry description given a pang, untold to any unsym¬ 
pathizing ear, to one who perhaps provided the means of every pleasure which 
the thankless writer enjoyed ! 

Lastly, tell, so far as you may be able, when you hope to write next, where the 
answer is to be addressed, and give any messages that your hosts may wish to 
convey through you. Remember to send loves and kind remembrances to each and 
all, but do not i lump ’ either of your parents in the ‘ all ’ to whom you may send 
them. They should always have a distinct and separate recognition, and, as a rule, 
personal mention is always more appreciated by every one, because more kind, than 
that made in mere general and collective terms. In signing your name, or pet 
name, if writing to any of the near relatives before enumerated, be careful never to 
omit the mention of your own relationship to the person you address; *>., ‘ Your 
affectionate daughter—sister—niece.’ Never sign yourself ‘ Yours affectionately,’ for 
this would be unseemly and a making light, as it were, of your ties of near and dear 
relationship to them. You will observe how, throughout the whole of the rules 
which I have prescribed for you, that every one of them, and the whole composition 
of the letter suggested, is based on that golden ‘ law of kindness ’ which I told you 
was the very foundation of all good breeding. 

And now, suppose that, instead of writing the first letter yourself, you have one 



HOW TO WRITE AN ESSAY. 


43 7 


to answer. Observe whether any questions have been asked, and begin by answering 
them all, at once. Never forget to do so. There is also another fault into which 
some letter-writers fall—instead of giving any news, they merely recapitulate the 
scraps of information received in the letter they are answering. 

For example, they say, ‘ It must be very pleasant to you to have your aunt with 
you; and what a surprise such and such an event must have been ! No doubt you 
feel glad that so-and-so,’ &c., ‘and your plan of doing so-and-so will doubtless prove 
a good one,’ and so on, through a most uninteresting and truly aggravating letter, 
winding up with repetitions, just as it began. Some notice of news received and 
sympathy expressed, as the case may be, is a very good thing, but not to the exclusion 
of news. 

In directing a letter, if to a visitor in the house of another person, never fail to 
add the owner’s name to the address. Thus :— 

Miss B-, 

Care of John K-, Esq., 

Warrendale, 

&c., &c. 

And observe, also, do not abbreviate the words ‘Care of’ to ‘c/o,’ for this is 
altogether in commercial style, and very unladylike. 

And now I leave my rules and illustrations for the earnest and kindly con¬ 
sideration of my readers, begging them never to fall into the grave error of imagining 
that anything is but a trifle, and beneath their consideration, for 

‘ Grains of sand the mountains make, 

And atomies infinity.’ 

■ » ■ 


HOW TO WRITE AN ESSAY. 

What is an essay? An essay, taken in the strict and original sense of the word, 
was intended to be a brief and concise account of any given subject, leaving it 
suggestive to the reader of further considerations and reflections, and in short, to 
awaken in his mind a desire to be more thoroughly familiar with that subject. 

An essay, taken in the modern sense of the word, is not so, but is intended to 
be a regular and complete treatise—a brief summary of elaborate research on a 
particular theme. 

A good style of essay-writing includes sufficiency of matter, adaptation of style 
to the matter, grammatical structure, originality, accuracy of detail, and vivacity of 
style. Style must be adapted to the subject to be treated, whether it be historical, 
biographical, critical or social discourse, science, or natural philosophy. It is 
necessary to follow the nature of the subject, that the choice of words and the length 
of sentences be well adapted. Hooker, Tillotson, De Quincey, Temple, and Swift 
may all be studied for style in all its varieties. 

But matter must come before style. It has been well said, ‘ To your expression 
be attentive, but about your matter be solicitous.’ Mental picturing is indispensable 
to good descriptive essay-writing. 

We may read books and books on ‘ Rome and her Wonders,’ but if we fail to see 
them with the mind’s eye, the learning is but that of letter. By the aid of vivid 







433 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


description it is possible to see St. Peter’s, gaze at its immense dome, designed by 
the immortal Michael Angelo ! Then see Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘ Last Supper,’ and 
‘ The Interview of the Child Jesus with the Doctors in the Temple.’ 

The best means of cultivating a good style of essay-writing is by studying the 
style of the best authors. No one will ever become a good writer who has not some 
amount of self-confidence. 

Read good writers—not for the sake of imitation, hut to catch the contagion of 
a good expression. Too much cannot be said for originality in writing. We like 
to find a reflection of the old masters in the modern painters. Now, writing differs 
from painting in this respect; we want to acquire taste, sentiment, and command of 
language of eminent authors; but we must make use of what originality we ourselves 
possess. 

We would say to the tyro : choose your subject well, be sure you understand it, 
be careful in analysing it. Accumulate matter by observation, by reading, by 
reflection ; distribute it under the heads of the analysis of the subject. Use English 
words and constructions, and, as a rule, avoid old-fashioned phrases. Read what 
you have written, cut out what is superfluous, substitute clearer and more vigorous 
words if they occur to you, revise carefully, copy in an amended form. 

It is best not to think of rules while writing. Whatever has been learnt from 
rules, to be really of service, must have entered into the habits of mind and taste, 
and be a part of that power which we use, as we use the power of nerve or muscle, 
unconsciously. 


LITERARY WORK FOR GIRLS. 

By an Editor’s Wife. 

The question of remunerative employment for women is becoming every day a 
more absorbing one. The time has, we believe, almost—would that we could say 
quite !—gone by when work of any and every sort was considered a degradation to 
a woman gently born and reared. Poets in all ages have sung glibly enough of the 
dignity of labour, but it is hard for us to realise the dignity when we find ourselves 
tabooed and thrust down in the social scale by virtue of our work. 

Happily this nineteenth century, which has so many evil things to answer for, 
has at any rate done us good service in materially altering the aspect from which 
women’s labour is regarded. There is nothing so ennobling and invigorating to the 
mind as good honest work, whether undertaken of necessity, or simply as a right 
use of the time placed at our disposal. 

There is no such powerful incentive to perseverance and thoroughness as keeping 
before our eyes some definite object to be attained by our labour, and there are no 
such impartial critics of our work as those who gauge it by its market value, entirely 
apart from all sentiment whatsoever. 

This is in itself as strong an argument as needs be why girls should, if they 
be disposed, turn their attention to remunerative work, even supposing other 
considerations to be absent. 

The scriptural view of the matter, that the ‘ labourer is worthy of his hire/ 
applies indiscriminately to all sorts and grades of labourers, whethei they be men 
or women, labourers from necessity or from a sense of responsibility; and she who 




LITERARY WORK FOR GIRLS. 


439 


labours well and thoroughly, with due qualifications for her task, deserves, and is 
pretty sure to gain, the hire which Christ Himself has declared to be her due. 

‘ Well and thoroughly.’ Here is the great secret of women’s work, and in no 
case does it apply more forcibly than with regard to the branch of work we have 
chosen as the subject of this section. 

‘ Surely literary work is the most pleasant of all ways of earning money/ I have 
heard many a girl say. ‘ There is no going from home amongst strangers, or weary 
plodding to and fro in all weathers, no wear and tear of refractory children, as in 
the case of a governess, no terror-inspiring examinations and outlay for being taught, 
as with telegraph clerks, no expensive course of lessons or stern apprenticeship, as 
with art needlework, designing, or even such work as millinery and dressmaking. 
If only a girl possesses a talent for writing, she can sit quietly at home and make 
money with comparative ease, and if she is really clever she gets known, and then 
see how well she is paid. How fortunate to be able to gain a livelihood with such , 
ease! ’ 

And then if the girl is of an energetic turn of mind she will very likely sit down 
and dash off a few verses or a story, and feeling quite assured that she has read 
many in print that were no better, she dispatches it to the editor of any magazine 
she happens to take in, and impatiently, yet hopefully, awaits the result. This is 
tolerably sure to be a refusal. The literary aspirant is cast down and somewhat 
indignant. She is so sure that many compositions not in any degree better than 
hers have been printed somewhere. She sends her manuscript off again in another 
direction with the same result. Then she arrives at the conclusion that editors are 
the most blind, unfair set of beings in existence. They might at any rate have 
deigned to say why they refused her composition. She throws down her pen in 
supreme disgust, utterly disheartened, and very probably never takes it up for 
literary composition again. 

Now, granting that her own estimate of her work was right, which, however, it 
is little likely to be, any more than the estimate of admiring friends, and that her 
verses or story were really equal in merit to others she has seen in print, is there 
any reaspn, apart from the blindness and exclusiveness of editors, why she should 
have failed ? This is the question that we will endeavour fully to answer in this 
section. 

I will quite agree with my would-be literary girl that writing is a pleasant and 
profitable occupation, well adapted from many points of view for supplying a means 
of income without the attendant disagreeables attaching to many other employments. 

I will add, that never at any time was there such a field open to the literary 
worker as at this moment when magazines are multiplied and ‘ of making books 
there is no end.’ 

But I can go with her no farther. Literary work is not easy, at any rate to a 
vast number of those who live by it; it cannot be entered upon without training, 
and it requires much more than mere talent. The thorough practical training for 
the work is even more advantageous than a decided talent devoid of cultivation, 
although I will not be rash enough to affirm that talent is unnecessary. But that it 
is useless without training, I am firmly persuaded. On another point, too, I must 
differ from my disheartened girl friend. Editors are by no means the dragons that 
many people paint them. What they may have been in past days I cannot say, 
but my own experience is that they are as a rule most kind and courteous, and 



440 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


only too ready to accept a manuscript that really meets the requirements of their 
magazine in all p irticulars; for, incredible as it sounds, the number that comes 
under this category is surprisingly small. 

My girl readers would not wonder that their MSS. have received such summary 
treatment, if they could see the formidable pile of papers lying each morning on an 
editor’s table. I should like the discontented literary aspirant to have practical 
experience of the work of examining, sorting, reading, and returning just for one 
day, and her only wonder will be that the editor has not thrown her manuscript 
with a score or two of others at once into the waste-paper basket, without even 
going through the brief form of rejection which has so roused her indignation. 
Fancy, if you can, the Editor of The Girls Own Paper writing some twenty or 
thirty such letters every day as the following, besides having to wade through the 
twenty or thirty accompanying MSS. in every style of undecipherable handwriting, 
and probably varying in length from a page to a fair-sized volume:— 

1 Dear Madam, —I am extremely sorry to be obliged to return your MS. In 
the first place, the story is three times as long as the greatest length we allow for 
short stories, and only about a third of the length required for a serial. Besides 
this, the interest is not sufficiently maintained, the characters are too unreal, and 
the whole tendency of the plot so extremely romantic that I am afraid it would 
give our girls a very false notion of life. The writing, too, bears evidence of in¬ 
experience, the composition of many sentences being even grammatically incorrect. 
Under these circumstances I am compelled most reluctantly to reject your story. 
I would willingly accept it, so far as I am concerned, for I am sure you have taken 
great pains, and there are many very pretty ideas in it ; but I am afraid the readers 
would not consider it sufficiently interesting, and that their friends would not 
approve the tone. Unfortunately we are obliged to consider these points, as we 
would rather sell The Girl's Own Paper than give it away. If you would quite 
alter the plot of your story, making it more practical, and in some way connecting 
the incidents ; if you could make the conversation less frivolous, and the characters 
a little more sensible, and if you would alter all the sentences that are not well 
expressed, I should be happy then to look at it again. 

‘ With many apologies for wounding your feelings, I remain, dear madam, 

‘ Your humble servant, 

‘ The Editor.’ 

There, girls ! It looks rather weak in print., doesn’t it, but isn’t that the sort of 
letter that you really wanted ? and I can assure you that would be but a mild 
criticism of the inappropriateness. of most amateur contributions sent to editors. 
Besides these, there is another class of contributions quite as useless, but far more 
distracting. Every editor knows them only too well. Shall I give you one brief 
example ? 

‘ Dear Sir, —I send you herewith a MS., which I earnestly entreat you to accept. 
I am in the sorest need—an aged curate with a large family and small income. 
The long illness and recent death of my wife has reduced me to penury. My own 
health is failing, and, the new rector of this parish not requiring my services, I am 
thrown destitute upon the world. My only hope is that I may by my pen be able 
to maintain my family until I obtain something else. Unless I have ten pounds by 
next Friday my belongings will have to be sold. Oh, sir, in the name of that 





A PAUSE FOR THOUGHT. 






































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































442 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


religion which your paper so ably advocates, help me to avoid starvation, beggary, 
and disgrace. There is nothing before me but the workhouse, unless you can 
give me a start in your valued paper. I beseech you do not dash away my last 

hope. . . . ’ . . 

How do you think the editor feels over a letter like this? The article is perhaps 
some abstruse theological treatise, deeply learned, no doubt, but containing, maybe, 
extraordinary views which no one would look at, unless they emanated from some 
celebrated man. If the editor were to accept it no one would read his paper, and 
he knows very well if he gives this poor man the least encouragement he will 
probably be deluged with other similar compositions. He can, therefore, only 
return it, with the usual short form of rejection which seems so cruelly hopeless to 
the disappointed author. Yet if the editor were to make it his business to instruct 
would-be litterateurs in the art of writing, what would become of his magazine, or 
when, indeed, would the readers get their paper ? And this is no overdrawn picture. 
Even more distressing circumstances than this are brought to an editor’s notice, so 
that he is not unfrequently tempted to afford the help out of his own pocket which 
he dares not supply in his editorial capacity. 

Therefore I say that if an editor even looks at all the MSS. and letters he 
receives he is very good, but if he returns what is unsuitable he is a paragon of 
kindness. This is the honest opinion of one who has had some experience both of 
rejecting and being rejected. Then, what is wanted to enable a girl to use her pen 
profitably ? First, ability; secondly, training; thirdly, powers of discrimination 
and observation. 

I need not dwell much upon ability. Although it is the first thing, it is in some 
respects the least of the three essentials : that is to say, a comparatively small 
amount of ability combined with the other two qualifications will go further than a 
large amount of ability devoid of them. A vivid imagination is very necessary to 
the writer of fiction, but if unaccompanied by education and experience it will be of 
little use to her, whereas these two latter would very likely enable her to write 
plain, practical articles without the aid of the former, especially if she be possessed 
of sound common sense. Patience and perseverance, I need hardly say, are needed 
by authors of every class. 

We see, then, that, although exceptional talent is undoubtedly required to make 
an exceptional writer, the absence of any extraordinary intellectual ability need not 
be regarded as an entire disqualification. 

Now, to come to the question of training; and this is a wide and important 
side of my subject. It has indeed been the point where women’s work has 
generally failed, though I am glad to see each day is carrying us on in the right 
direction, and opening the eyes of women to its importance. We must always 
remember the fact that there are always more, far more, girls willing to work than 
there are openings for them. Thus the best qualified, as a matter of course, come 
best off. ‘ As a rule, those who can supply what is really required meet with those 
who will purchase their merchandise. It is inferior workers whose labour brings 
no profit,’ says an experienced writer upon the question of women’s work; and her 
remarks are as true of literary as of any other branch of work. 

When boys set themselves to learn a business, the same writer remarks, they 
bend all their energies to the accomplishment of the end they have in view. All 
other matters are made subservient to it. But girls imagine they can take up 





LITERARY WORK FOR GIRLS. 


443 


an occupation without any sort of special training. Is it any wonder that women’s 
work is regarded from quite a different standpoint, and depreciated often beyond 
its just value ? Another lady of great experience says :—‘ Partial training has been 
the ruin of many attempts to gain new employment for women. It is often spoken 
of as desirable that they should do “ a little work,” but the “ little ” which is meant 
to apply to the matter of quantity is transferred to that of quality, and this effectually 
bars the way to success. It is very undesirable to see a lowered standard for 
women’s work, and yet what reason is there to expect the attainment of a higher 
one in any way, but with the same amount of time and labour given by young men ? ’ 
Another writer says:—‘ After an experience of life neither very small nor very 
brief, I must candidly confess that my difficulty in trying to help my own sex has 
not been so much to find work as workers—women who can be relied upon, first 
to know how really to do what they profess, and next to have conscientiousness and 
persistency in doing it.’ 

It is needless to multiply examples. All those who have deeply considered the 
subject have arrived at the same conclusion—that want of training is a principal 
cause of want of success by women-workers. 

In the case of literary work, how is such training to be effected, supposing, for 
instance, that the girl’s education is considered finished before the idea of writing 
has occurred to her? 

In the first place, if she is not already well qualified in that direction, she ought 
persistently to follow up the study of composition, which she can easily do with the 
aid of such books as are to be had, if she have ordinary intelligence. In the next 
place, she must read widely and observantly good standard literature, in order that 
she may obtain command of language, that she may acquire the habit of looking at 
a subject from diverse points of view, and form an enlightened opinion upon men 
and things, for we are all of us, even the most original minds, greatly influenced and 
educated by the thoughts of the great men and women who have gone before us. 
An authoress of some reputation once said to me, ‘ Nothing displays to you your 
own ignorance more vividly than writing. I was quite overwhelmed with my own 
ignorance when I began to write. I was continually finding myself landed, un¬ 
consciously as it were, upon subjects of which I felt I was too ignorant to speak 
with authority, and in the midst of a paper upon some particular topic, I would find 
my thoughts had carried me along to side questions, necessary to be considered, 
but which I was obliged to stop and carefully study before I could write accurately.’ 

Does not every reader perceive how this literary aspirant was giving herself the 
very training she required ? 

A very necessary point in magazine writing is to be able to say what you have 
to say in a given space. It is excellent practice to choose a subject, and allow 
yourself a certain number of sheets or lines in which to treat of it, rigidly adhering 
to the space assigned, while at the same time endeavouring to state the whole matter 
clearly, concisely, fully, and attractively. If the article fails in any one of these 
points, the author should regard it as she would an ill-worked problem in Euclid— 
only fit to be destroyed—and set herself to work out the problem over again. 
Does this seem very discouraging ? Without such patient labour, no success can 
be hoped for. 

And when our girl author has conquered the difficulties of composition, has 
acquired the art of expressing herself clearly and fluently, and has by a diligent 



444 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


course of reading acquainted herself with the views of distinguished thinkers upon 
all sorts of subjects, and learned moreover to think out a subject clearly and logically 
for herself, what more is required of her before she may attempt to send an article 
to an editor with a reasonable chance of success ? Why, the practical application 
of the qualifications she already possesses to the subject she has in hand. 

To explain more fully what I mean : it will be best to glance at the principal 
reasons why articles and stories intended for magazines meet with rejection, even 
when they are carefully and thoughtfully written. One great reason is inappro¬ 
priateness of subject, or a treatment foreign to the expressed or understood policy 
and lines of the journal; and another, scarcely less important, is the matter of 
length, most amateur papers being written with an utter disregard to the nice 
balancing of articles and stories in a periodical journal which may be almost termed 
the alphabet of editorial work. 

Here it is that the powers of observation and discrimination must come in. 
The magazine writer must be able to observe what are the tendencies and scope of 
the journal she hopes to write for, and about what space is allotted to the kind of 
paper she proposes to write. She must then cast about for a subject, which, while 
being sufficiently original, will, she believes, be one likely to fall in with the editor’s 
ideas of suitability; and everything depends upon her nice discrimination of this 
point. It is not so much what best pleases her as what is most likely to please that 
particular portion of the community for whose delectation the journal exists. This 
quick perception of the fitness of things is as invaluable as it is indispensable to a 
successful magazine writer. 

So far I have confined myself to the consideration of magazine writing, because 
this field of literature is not only one of the widest and most diversified, but also 
because it yields the quickest return for a certain amount of labour. There are, I 
should say, few literary aspirants who would be so rash as to attempt the gigantic 
task of writing a book until they had gained some sort of footing by the publication 
of less ambitious efforts. The consideration of the best way to proceed with such 
an undertaking as a continued story or work of fiction I proceed to undertake in 
the next section. 


♦ 


HOW TO WRITE A STORY. 

By an Editor’s Wife. 

The popular impression about writing a story, among those who have never set 
themselves to the task, is that it is a sort of thing that comes naturally; once begun, 
it will unwind and develop of itself, and arrive at a conclusion somehow or other. 
Another very general idea is that to tell some real incident that has attracted the 
notice of the writer cannot fail to make an interesting story. Our business in the 
present section will be to show that both these notions are illusory; that to write a 
good story is as much an art as to construct verses or elaborate essays, and that all 
good writers follow certain definite rules and methods, which, though varying in 
individual cases, thus stamping certain writers with special characteristics, have, 
nevertheless, a certain similarity of foundation. 





HOW TO WRITE A STORY. 


445 


We find very diverse methods adopted by various well-known writers. Wilkie 
Collins, for instance, makes plot his chief care, and certainly no man living has 
displayed a more wonderful imaginative faculty. The plots of this eminent novelist 
enchain the reader’s mind, and carry it on with absorbing and ever-accumulating 
interest until the grand climax is reached. But when it is all ended, what is the 
impression ? That we have been living in a world of marvellous unrealities, 
watching the movements of a set of wonderful marionettes, moved by a master hand 
with elaborate forethought, as a man might play a game at chess. The characters, 
often drawn with the utmost skill, linger in our minds as the puppets who have 
worked out those extraordinarily-conceived plans, created for no other purpose than 
to act parts already arranged and bring about events already planned. 

In life we know the action of individuals, in a certain limited sense, shapes the 
events which follow—that, in fact, results are produced by causes; and, in order to 
be true to life, a writer will consider carefully how a certain character would act 
under certain circumstances with various influences brought to bear. The skill of 
the author would be shown by the manner in which he decided these important 
points, and thus created a consistent portrait of a character which might be perfectly 
original and at the same time lifelike. It will be seen that to gain a realistic 
impression the characters must in a sort of way develop the plot, rather than 
let the plot make the characters. The truest art is to follow Nature, and we know 
that human beings are not mere puppets worked by invisible wires, following out a 
course already chalked, as upon a map. I need hardly add that Wilkie Collins’s 
method, so far as we can judge it from his books, is not the one we would hold up 
as a model. There are few writers indeed who could have produced such results; 
and we must always remember that a man who stands alone, marked out by some 
strong individuality, is the last person who ought to be imitated. Genius, truly, 
often soars above rules; but it is only genius that can afford to do this. 

A sensational writer of some celebrity in her sphere followed a curious plan in 
the working out of the stories which seemed literally to flow from her active pen. 
‘ I bring my hero or heroine into the most extraordinary and bewildering difficulties 
that I can possibly devise,’ she told a friend, ‘ and then I set to work to contrive 
to get them out again. The more difficult I find this portion of my work, the better 
I know my story will be liked.’ This writer followed a method, certainly, but not 
a very artistic one. The result was that, though she had undoubted talent, she 
never rose beyond the ranks of the most sensational and ephemeral literature, 
which finds plenty of readers among the thoughtless and ill-educated, filling them 
with false notions of life, and giving them more hazy notions than they already 
possessed of the borderland between right and wrong. 

A very different method is that of the author whose chief object is to depict 
characters which shall live in the mind as life-like creations, even when the incidents 
of the story are almost forgotten. The Wide, Wide World is a specimen of this 
kind of story. Perhaps no better example of a writer who combined most forcibly 
both these styles could be found than Charles Dickens, whose characters are 
wonderful creations, the result of the keenest observation, and whose plots will bear 
comparison with those of most novelists, although character was, no doubt, his 
great study. 

‘ But,’ my readers will say, 4 all this is only about criticising; not about 
writing stories.’ Quite true, but it is a great step gained to be able to intelligently 




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THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


detect from an author’s work something of the rules by which he has been guided, 
and to note in what way such a plan has been the means of helping or retarding 
the success of his performance; for an immense deal of help is to be gained by 
carefully reading good models. A novice will almost invariably find that, if she 
has been reading some special book immediately before sitting down to write, her 
story will unconsciously be tinctured by the style of that author sufficiently for 
herself to detect the influence, though others may not do so. I do not mean to say 
that she will or ought to imitate, but that, as she is sure to be influenced by what 
she reads, she should be careful to study only good models. 

Our novice would be very foolish if she were to begin by trying anything more 
formidable than a short story. Even here, she will do well to arrange for herself a 
plan of procedure. The plot, which, of course, needs nothing like the amount of 
elaboration given to a serial story, must, nevertheless, have a definite beginning and 
ending. Some of the most interesting short stories consist only of an incident or 
two from the life of an individual, while others include the principal events of a 
lifetime. In each, however, there must be some sort of climax—something to lead 
the reader on with a sense that what is coming is of as much or more importance 
than what is past. It is very essential in story writing, especially for magazines and 
for children, that the opening should be bright and attractive; but it is a most 
inartistic fault to let the interest created at the beginning gradually dwindle and die out 
before the end is reached. Yet we need not search very far to find instances in print 

Having carefully thought out a plot, which must have enough incident, yet not 
be so overcrowded as to leave no space or scope for description, the first difficulty 
is generally where to begin. It does not necessarily follow that we must begin at 
the very beginning. It is often found advisable to seize a ‘ situation ’ for a 
commencement, and then explain how the situation came about. A fair instance 
of what I mean occurs to me in the case of Daniel Dero?ida, where the chief 
character, a beautiful girl, is displayed at a gaming table. The interest is at 
once seized : ‘ How came that fair young creature in such a position as this, and 
will she go on from bad to worse, or will she break through the temptation?* 
The key-note of interest is struck in the very first paragraph. We have already 
spoken of the great importance of being able to write to a given length. There is 
a great deal of nicety in proportioning the amount of incident to the amount of 
space at the writer’s command. This can only be accurately estimated by practice, 
but I may warn the novice that the tendency of a story is to outrun the limits fixed, 
and that when she comes to write she will find many little points occur to her that 
will be necessary to the artistic development of the plot, but were unthought of in 
the general scheme. 

It may be as well, in passing, to give a word or two to the subject of 
computation. If you take about a dozen lines, and strike the average of words in a 
line, and then compare the average of your own line with that of a magazine column, 
a small sum in arithmetic will very quickly show you how many of your own pages 
will fill the page of print. It is a good plan for those who write much to use always 
the same sized paper, as it saves both the editor and the author some amount of 
time and trouble in reckoning length. As a proof that this point of length is of 
importance to magazine writers, I cannot refrain from quoting the practice of a 
living editor, 1 who occasionally writes to his staff contributors, ‘ Can you let 

1 Not the Editor of The Girls Own Paper. 



HOW TO WRITE A STORY. 


447 


me have a short story in the course of the next fortnight, consisting of about 
2,180 words?’ 

Incidents and characters taken from life frequently form the groundwork of the 
best stories, and give the writer a great advantage in drawing truly life-like sketches, 
but she must beware of adhering too rigidly to the bare details. As a rule, incidents 
from life serve only as a foundation, the writer having to supply from her 
imagination many trifling incidents which are necessary for the completeness of the 
picture, or to add a conclusion which in the living type has not yet been arrived at, 
for fiction differs from reality in the same respect as the map of a country differs 
from that small portion which surrounds the space covered by our own two feet. 

Children’s stories form a branch of literature quite distinct, but are nevertheless 
capable of much artistic excellence. The aim of presenting true views of life is 
more than ever necessary here. The class of children’s story with which all of us 
are familiar, connecting beauty with wickedness and plainness with virtue, is 
happily almost superseded by more rational and truthful pictures of child life. 
That intelligent children themselves are capable of criticising pretty accurately is 
shown by the following true incident:—An old lady was telling her little 
granddaughter, who was supposed to have a penchant for all kinds of naughtiness, 
the story of a little boy who ran out of his mother’s garden into some fields he had 
been forbidden to enter. ‘ At last,’ said the old lady, ‘ he came to a gate, and 
instead of turning back he clambered over into the next field. But he had not seen 
that there was a big bull behind the hedge. When the bull saw the naughty little 
boy he ran at him and tossed him, and that was the end of disobedient Charlie.’ 

‘Grandmamma,’ said the little girl of four, ‘now I’ll tell you a story. There 
was once a little girl who was told not to go in the fields, but she was naughty and 
went. By-and-bye she came to a gate, but there wasn’t any bull there, and it didn’t 
toss her; so the naughty little girl got home safely.’ 

The artistic fault in this anecdote was entirely in the way of telling it, which 
conveyed the impression that the child’s disobedience was the cause of the bull 
being in the field, and that, seeing he was a naughty child, he indignantly and 
virtuously tossed him. The lesson sought to be conveyed—that disobedience often 
brings children into trouble, and must sooner or later work them injury—is a true 
and just one, and even the commonplace incident in which it is here embodied 
might have been told in a way that would not violate even a child’s notion of cause 
and result. 

It is the opinion of the writer of this section that a child’s story should always 
leave a pleasant impression on the mind of the youthful reader. Sunshine and 
cloud should no doubt be intermingled, but the sunshine should burst through and 
predominate. Happiness is an essential element of childhood, and it is the duty 
of the elders to shield them as much as possible from gloom and misery, which 
more often has a hardening than a softening effect. Their books, which represent 
life to them, ought, then, rather to deal with the happier phases of existence, 
and not introduce them prematurely to those aspects of it which have banished 
from their elders the innocent enjoyment and wide trustfulness they knew as 
children. 

The construction of a long or continued story differs very greatly from a 
short one. Here some sort of plot is absolutely necessary, and, as a rule, 
requires to be most carefully and thoughtfully elaborated, the incidents interweaving 



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and welding together, as the warp and woof of a piece of cloth. Development of 
character is an essential not necessarily entering into a short story. Instead ot one 
point of interest there must be many, all leading up to and subservient to the grand 
denouement. If the story is to appear in serial form, each separate portion should 
contain some point to sustain and excite interest. In a long story we expect to 
find striking situations, descriptive power, dramatic force, or vivid character¬ 
painting, in addition to mere incident, and these points must be well kept in 
view, for some or other of them will certainly enter into the composition of a 
good story. 

The best way for a beginner, when the main ideas of a plot have been brought 
together in the author’s mind, is to sketch out a plan of the chapters. This will fix 
the incidents in the memory, and also give the cue where it is possible and 
advisable to make good points—to seize an opportunity for a pretty piece of 
descriptive writing or a forcible situation. It will also be a very useful check 
against unduly lengthening out or hurrying any portion of the story, for if you 
should suddenly discover that you have occupied three parts of your space with less 
than half of your plot, you would know that the remaining portion of the story must 
be overcrowded with incident, or the plot be mutilated, very probably spoiling the 
symmetry of the whole work. 

It is impossible to lay down any rules about style. If a writer has any title to 
write she will probably possess some individuality of her own, which it is quite 
desirable she should preserve. The study of good authors need not rob her of 
such individuality, although it will greatly assist her in the command of language, 
fluent expression, and grace of diction. If in the course of a story you come upon 
a paragraph that will not go right by means of a correction here and there, 
ruthlessly cut it out and turn the whole sentence or paragraph into quite a different 
form. It would seem almost needless to warn the tyro against copying the 
stereotyped forms appertaining to special writers, as, for instance, G. P. R. James’s 
solitary horseman urging his steed at a furious pace over a bleak, desolate country ; 
or the dark-haired, masculine villain, dear to the heart of many lady novelists ; or 
the fair, treacherous woman, with her snake-like beauty, &c., &c. These points 
are emphatically to be avoided. Their respective authors have gained a place for 
their work by virtue of their talents, and in spite of their peculiarities. To copy the 
oddities without displaying the talent would indeed be fatal. 

In sending a story to an editor a brief resume of the plot should accompany it, 
more especially if the tale be at all a long one. By reading this and one or two 
chapters, the experienced judge will tell at once whether the MS. is likely to suit 
him, and it is obvious that the story of which the editor can see the scope almost at 
a glance is likely to receive the first attention. 

A few words on the subject of publishing may not come amiss in this place. 
In order to get a book published, an untried author would certainly have to provide 
the necessary cost, the publisher, if it were a fairly good production, perhaps 
consenting to add the weight of his name on the title page. The probable result 
will be a heavy loss. 

None but the most remarkable books will find a footing without an enormous 
amount of advertising, quite beyond the power of a private enterprise; and it is not 
at all to be wondered at that publishers should be extremely chary of risking outlay 
which is little likely to bring them any adequate return. It is hardly their fault 




ON THE ART OF VERSE-MAKING. 


449 


if the public will not buy such books; to them it is simply a matter of pounds, 
shillings, and pence. But a writer of real ability stands a very good chance of 
finding an opening in magazine literature, as has been the case with the majority of 
our greatest authors, and, when firmly established in this sphere, will stand a much 
better chance of discovering a publisher who will purchase the copyright, and take 
all risks of publication. 

In conclusion, I would say that the object of all fiction should be to convey 
some high moral or religious teaching, by depicting characters to be reverenced and 
imitated, or displaying unworthy conduct in its true light; and the writer who 
invests wickedness with a charm, or enlists all the interest of readers on the side of 
characters whose actions we know to be rather worthy of reprobation, is guilty of a 
greater evil than, we will charitably hope, she is at all aware of. 


♦ 


ON THE ART OF VERSE-MAKING. 

By the Author of ‘The Truce of God, and other Poems.’ 

I. 

We heard not long since of a bevy of ladies engaged in poetical composition. ‘It 
was the prime of summer time.’ There they sat in the quiet evening glow, pencil 
in hand, with knitted brow, the white paper patiently awaiting the tremulous 
inscription. It was all in vain. The theme was too difficult. Perhaps it had 
puzzled others as fair before them; but so it was, not one of the company could 
achieve her desire. The subject was prosaic; but then difficulties should be only 
an incentive to genius. A sentence had been submitted for meditation—‘There 
was an old woman, and she was as deaf as a post; ’ and from these words they were 
required to make ‘ a verse.’ We can excuse their failure; it was not so wonderful 
as the rhyme they were expected to compose— 

‘ There was an old woman, and she 
Was as deaf as a P-O-S-T.’ 

Now it must at once be said that there is \^ry much verse-making in the world 
which is quite as mechanical as this couplet. Do we, then, advise the cultivation 
of this art on which we are about to write ? No, we do not, as a matter of common 
acquirement. But is there not much music as mechanical, and which is waste as 
regards all higher result? Is there not many a drawing lesson given, with no 
other consequence than a few angular lines that can never be construed into a 
picture? And yet is all such tentative effort to be condemned—education of the 
ear, it may be, in some partial way, or of the eye, to a measure of exactness quite 
as useful in human affairs as the masterpieces of painting? Let our readers 
discriminate for themselves. The flowers give out their fragrance, the birds give 
out their song, each according to its kind; so let it be with our girls. If there 
be a poet among them, let her soar. If there be one with pleasant facility of 
versification, why not use the gift in its humbler place ? They should not need to 
be told that a frog cannot be a nightingale, or that little Miss Plainprose does not 
preside over the Muses. 


2 G 




450 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


The Poet’s Corner, once so conspicuous in every newspaper, has been shorn 
of its honours by the multiplication of magazines, but never were versifiers more 
abundant than now. Morning, noon, and night their manuscripts invade the 
editor’s table. Happy is that personage if now and then he finds some pearl 
amongst this waste. According to the experience of the present writer, they come 
like the leaves with the spring, when the poetical sap begins to circulate. In the 
winter they are fewer, If, however, any stirring event occurs—a great shipwreck, 
a royal wedding—there is, whatever the season, an immediate outflow of 
sympathetic rhyme. As to the boys and girls of tender years, they are apt to 
send their ‘ first compositions,’ as of peculiar value to the world at large, and in 
this practice are often abetted by the proud father or mother. In all this versifying 
there is much waste of time. We would not undervalue what is really good, or 
simply experimental. Allow something on the credit side for any good feeling 
expressed, for any sympathies deepened, for the pleasure of honest effort, and the 
value that attaches to mental pursuits, and the balance is still heavily against these 
contributions. As regards the larger number, the ideas are ordinary, the phrases 
worn, and the lines such as a skilled improvisator could supply in any quantity. 

No; the poet is born, not made. The world has been often told so since 
Horace first penned that famous phrase. Take the fairest maiden you can find; 
feed her with honey, anoint her with dews, lead her when the morning breaks 
through the vocal groves, and let the night silently wrap her in its silent shades; 
subject her to what course of influences you will, but you cannot make her a poet 
if she has not the poetic soul. Or is there one among your companions whose eyes 
bespeak a graver wisdom ? Open before her the book of life, let her observe and 
ponder, let her sympathise and suffer; no education of yours can give her the 
interpreting voice. The old Roman poet was right. ‘Tell me where is fancy 
bred?’ And yet perhaps some homely little governess—some ‘Gladys,’ such as 
Jean Ingelow describes—may have the coveted faculty, and with it 

‘A healthful hunger for the great idea, 

The beauty and the blessedness of life,’ 

Many great things have been written of the poet. He has been called ‘seer’ 
and ‘ legislator,’ and it is quite true his influence in the world has been as large as 
it is subtle. ‘ Give me the making of a nation’s ballads, and I care not who makes 
the laws,’ is a. saying that has been quoted a hundred times. But while we write 
these things we must beware also of unduly exaggerating his place. The poet 
himself is often treated as an abstraction. He is idealised; and, like his own 
creations, sometimes more a creature of imagination than of fact. There are other 
gifts as precious as those with which he is endowed; other gifts which cannot be 
acquired, but are conferred by Nature. The world does not want only poets, nor 
indeed only seers or legislators. Imagination is but a part of our complex 
nature. The little Miss Plainprose aforesaid has a sphere in which she may be as 
useful and honoured as if she were Queen of Parnassus. 

The noblest poetry, however, is subject to art, even as the best prose obeys the 
rules of grammar. Horace himself wrote the Ars Poetica. And even those who 
are not ambitious of verse-making may have the better appreciation of what is 
written if they have some knowledge of its form. Girls have asked us for a few 
hints; some of them wished to know a little more about the structure of verse, and 



ON THE ART OF VERSE-MAKING. 


451 


the different metres in common use. We propose, therefore, after this preliminary 
note of warning, to give a few suggestions and examples. 

Let us suppose a few cases. There is a daughter who likes to make home 
happy. Next week is her mother’s birthday. She has been quietly preparing her 
gift, which is to be laid on the breakfast-table with a little note; she would like to 
say something beyond what everybody says on such an occasion—to individualise, 
so to say, or emphasise her affection if she could in her very words. So she 
contrives a verse, which, whatever its imperfections, has her heart in it. 

There is a sister, who has a lively brother at school, whom she keeps well posted 
in domestic affairs—excuse the pun ! There was a picnic the other day by the 
river side. How the boy would have enjoyed it! Oh the boating and the fun, 
and the fishes! and the hot sunshine, and the delicious shade of the trees, and the 
jokes cracked, and the plates broken ! She must tell him; and, venturesome girl, 
she indites her letter in rhyme. How her brother laughs over her description; she 
communicates, it is evident, some part at least of her enjoyment to him. 

There is a maiden, ‘ sweet seventeen,’ if you prefer it, or perhaps with a spice of 
somewhat older experience. She has a bright and merry face; there is a slightly 
satirical ring sometimes in her laugh, her words are a little keen, yet she rules as a 
sort of queen in her circle. She does not spare the foibles of her friends, but they 
are not afraid of her, for she is too generous to be unjust. They have amongst 
them a Manuscript which circulates periodically, in which they set down their 
thoughts for purposes of mutual improvement. This week there is a page over 
which they are all laughing. It is a smooth little piece of pleasant satire, not one 
unkind word in it, but everybody sees the point. ‘ Sweet seventeen ’ has been 
trying her pen, and her laugh betrays her. 

Now, in these familiar illustrations, we have, in each instance, a genuine 
inspiration. The same feeling might have been expressed in prose, but at least an 
effort has been made to give it completer utterance. It is possible that the birthday 
verse, the rhymed descriptive letter, the lively satire, might each be poetry of the 
sort that deserves our praise. The three productions might each express something 
of the real thought and feeling of the writer, and so well express it, in such fit and 
musical words, as to merit our respect. Observe, the first requisite in verse-making 
is a genuine inspiration. 

According to the nature of this inspiration will be the form of verse adopted. 
The objects which may move a poet are as various as the wide world, and the 
musical range of his expression corresponds with the play of human emotion. We 
speak now of things that lie beyond common attainment. 

Suppose the imagination to be occupied with some great succession of events 
which it would realise and present; it will naturally choose to clothe them in stately 
and measured language; and we have what is called epic or heroic verse. Let the 
incidents be of a lighter kind, requiring more rapid movement, and we have a simpler 
narrative style; such, for example, as that adopted by Sir Walter Scott. Let the 
story be simpler still, soon told, some touching or heroic incident of life, and we 
have the ballad. 

The poet, however, may be a student of human life ; he may be concerned with 
the motives and purposes of men; the chief interest of the complex history may lie 
for him in that inner world which is the substance to which all things else are as 
shadow. Then his poetry will take dramatic form, and he will move to his end by 

202 




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THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


the self-revealing characters of his drama. The imaginative splendours in which, 
for example, Milton delights, are as nothing to him. The stormy sweep of ocean, 
the fruitful plain, the forest glades, the mountain cataracts, the glory of the sunshine, 
and the mystery of the clouds—all these things which have inspired so many a 
noble strain, are of small account. It has been said of the poet that he is ‘ dowered 
with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn.’ The great dramatist, with his own 
intensity of feeling, sees and portrays this world within men, and his poem is so 
constructed as to show the interplay—often the tragic movement—of human passion. 

The narrower range of individual life offers also scope enough to the poet. Joy 
breaks into song; love pleads melodiously; grief cannot check its wail. Our 
devotion bursts into praise. And so we come to have the various forms of lyric 
verse, which tunefully express the varying soul. Sometimes this verse has the 
intensity of lofty, imaginative feeling, and is the voice of humanity speaking. Then 
we have the ode in its noblest form. For example, observe how in Tennyson’s 
£ Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington ’ he embodies in his own majestic 
strain one of our finest national conceptions. 

These general remarks, touching the chief aspects of poetry, are not complete 
definitions of its various forms, but may help us better to understand the verse in 
which it is clothed. In the next section we shall deal with methods of composition, 
and the measures or metres employed. Has any young aspirant followed us so far ? 
Here is another thought for her before we close. It tells what one of our latest 
singers, Frances Ridley Havergal, thought on this subject:— 

‘ Little one, what are you doing, 

Sitting on the window-seat! 

Laughing to yourself and writing, 

Some right merry thought inditing, 

Balancing with swinging feet ? ’ 

*’Tis some poetry I’m making, 

Though I never tried before— 

Four whole lines ! I’ll read them to you. 

Do you think them funny—do you? 

Shall I try and make some more?’ 

* * * * 

1 Think you, darling, nought is needed 
But the paper and the ink, 

And the pen to trace so lightly, 

While the eye is beaming brightly, 

All the pretty things we think? 

* * * * 

Poetry is not a trifle, 

Lightly thought and lightly made; 

Not a fair and scentless flower, 

Gaily cultured for an hour, 

Then as gaily left to fade. 

’Tis not stringing rhymes together 
In a pleasant true accord ; 

Not the music of the metre, 

Not the happy fancies sweeter 
Than a flower-bell honey-stored. 



ON THE ART OF VERSE-MAKING. 


453 


’Tis the essence of existence, 

Rarely rising to the light; 

And the songs that echo longest, 

Deepest, fullest, truest, strongest, 

With your life-blood you will write. 

* * * * 

Every lesson you shall utter, 

If the charge indeed be yours, 

First is gained by earnest learning, 

Carved in letters deep and burning 
On a heart that long endures. 

* * * * 

Will you seek it? Will you have it? 

’Tis a strange and solemn thing, 

Learning long, before your teaching, 

Listening long, before your preaching, 

Suffering before you sing.’ 

So wrote one whose verse was for the most part sunny and hopeful. We doubt 
whether ‘ suffering ’ is an essential part of poetical education; but the question is 
one it may interest our readers to determine for themselves, by such knowledge as 
they have of English literature. 

II. 

We have spoken of poetry in some of its higher aspects, as presented to us by 
the masters of song. Their methods of composition, which come next in place, 
have been as various as their moods. Some poems have been the work of laborious 
years ; others the happy inspiration of an hour. The plough crushing a mountain 
daisy was sufficient to suggest verses which have lived nearly the century, and will 
long survive it. A satirist writes of poets who wear the floor out, ‘ measuring a line 
at every stride.’ Certain it is that many a thought has been matured, many an 
expression perfected in solitude beneath the open sky. There have been poets 
whose long lonely walks were a vision of beauty. There has here and there been a 
favoured one who found his Pegasus in the steed he could give rein to over field 
and moor. Wordsworth delighted to dream on the grass. A boat rocking on the 
summer seas has before now been the cradle of the muse. Others have preferred 
% the silence of their own room, which they could people at will, even as Milton, 
dictating to his daughters, saw the more in his blindness :— 

1 So much the rather thou, celestial light, 

Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers irradiate.’ 

Many a strain of holy influence has found utterance in the still and solemn night 
watch. Of Rogers, who kept his poem on Italy sixteen years under his hand, it 
was jestingly said that he had the street-door knocker tied up when he was about to 
compose a couplet. On the other hand, much verse has been written under the 
stress of hostile, most prosaic circumstance, when the fire in the poet’s heart has 
burnt like a light in a dark place. More distressing possibly than even the gloom 
of a dungeon, yet not fatal, would be those domestic adversities which Hogarth has 
depicted, and which Hood so humorously suggests in his well-known ‘ Parental Ode.’ 




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THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


We may take Sir Walter Scott, however, as a typical instance of the manner in 
which the imagination often finds aid in external influences. The famous battle 
scene in Marmion was composed by him on the sands of Portobello, during the 
intervals of drill, when he was out with the Edinburgh corps of mounted volunteers. 
He has been pictured for us, pacing up and down upon his horse, with the waves 
beating at his feet, while ever and anon he would ‘ plunge in his spurs, and go off as 
if at the charge, with the spray dashing about him.’ It might have been a desperate 
rallv on the field of Flodden itself. So he drew vigour into his verse, as it were 
with his breath, and found a new inspiration in the rude harmony of thought and 
action. Other portions of the poem were composed when he was galloping at full 
speed over ‘ bank, bush, and scaur/ or in solitary rambles by the banks of the 
Yarrow; or as he sat under the foot of a huge oak, by which the Tweed rolled its 
sparkling waters. The familiar lines of Shakespeare present quite another picture,— 

‘ The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, 

And, as imagination bodies forth 
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen 
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothings 
A local habitation and a name.’ 

It is this realising power which is essential to all true poetry; and whatever 
helps it—whether solitude, or the voice of Nature, or the ecstasy of vigorous life— 
may be welcomed . 1 

The form of the poem will be naturally determined by the subject. There are 
cadences even in prose, and these vary greatly according to the imaginative power 
and feeling of the writer. Thus, there are passages in Carlyle’s History of the 
French Revolution, where his vivid description passes naturally into swift dactyl, or 
swifter trochee, and we detect even the hexameter struggling through the glow of 
his words. But what is a hexameter ? What are dactyls and trochees ? asks the 
reader. And here we come within the range of the questions which have prompted 
these remarks. Despite our warning word, we must not forget that the Art of Poetry 
is open to all—that every rank and sphere of life have furnished poets; and that 
there is much musical and wholesome verse, not claiming to be the highest, which 
is worthy of all respect. If, indeed, only the stars of first magnitude shone, and 
there were no scintillations of lesser light, would not the sky lose much of its glory ? 
No professor of literature can teach you how to write poetry, but he can explain the 
structure of verse. A few words next on this subject. 

Brave old Janet Hamilton, whose poems are worth reading, but who did not 
learn to use her pen till she was past fifty, declared that Shakespeare not only 
awakened her love of poetry, but trained her in grammatical expression. ‘You 
might as well ask the lark/ she said, ‘ how it can sing, as ask me how I can write 
according to the rules of grammarians.’ The same principle applies to the study of 
poetry. Its varieties of metre, their scope and power, and peculiar melody, are best 
distinguished and understood by reading the best poets. As no rhyming dictionary 
ever constructed a true poem, so no rules of prosody ever greatly interest the learner. 
They are not more than the dull dead strings to the violin; but let the student 
surrender herself to good verse, and the charm steals over her like the music which 

1 The reader curious on such points may consult Jacox’s Aspects of Authorship. 






ON THE ART OF VERSE-MAKING. 


455 


a skilful hand evokes from the stringed instrument. But to go back. You ask 
what is a hexameter 1 It is one of the forms of classic verse—that is, of both Greek 
and Roman poetry unrhymed, and depending for its music on the number and 
comparative length of its syllables. We may take it as our starting-point. 

The hexameter has no rhyme: it is only one of many ancient metres, which were 
all likewise without rhyme. 1 hese metres depended on the melodious arrangement 
of the longer or shorter syllables, the ‘ quantities/ as they are called, of the successive 
words. Certain combinations of syllables are called feet , as helping the movement 
of the verse. Thus, two long syllables coming together are called a spondee; a 
short followed by a long, an iamb ; a long followed by a short, a trochee ; one long 
followed by two short, a dactyl (from the Greek word which signifies a finger, with 
its one long and two short joints) ; and two short followed by a long, an anapaest. 

It is evident that by the skilful arrangement of these feet very different effects 
may be produced—a slower or quicker measure, grace or strength, and a modulation 
correspondent somewhat to the theme or purpose of the writer. The rules by which 
the quantities were determined in Greek and Latin do not apply to modem languages. 
Ye are governed mainly by accent. The same feet are, however, in constant use. 
Now, in further illustration, let us take the hexameter line, and we do so solely because 
it is the only one of the classic metres which has obtained real place in our English 
literature. It consists of six feet, as its name indicates ; they may be either spondees 
or dactyls, but a dactyl followed by a spondee must end the line. It is the metre 
in which Longfellow has written two of his chief poems—‘ Evangeline ’ and ‘ Miles 
Standish/ thereby securing it, as we have said, permanent recognition and honour 
amongst us ; for Southey before him had failed, and our irregular accent is not 
favourable to its use. An example will best show its structure:— 

‘ This is the | forest prim- | eval ; but | where are the | hearts that be- [ neath it 
Leaped like the | roe when he j hears in the j woodland the j voice of the | huntsman?’ 

Or this other line, which has more dactyls than are essential, but is more perfect 
in the quantities :— 

‘ Black were her | eyes as the | berry that | grows on the | thorn by the | wayside.’ 

It will interest our readers to note how sometimes an approach to this measure 
occurs accidentally in prose. Thus, in the Psalms :— 

‘How do the | heathen | rage and the | people im- | agine a | vain thing.’ 

Or again:— 

‘ He hath as- | cended on | high, and | led cap- | tivity | captive.’ 

Mr. Ruskin has recently spoken of rhyme, on its first introduction, as specially 
characteristic of the Christian chant or canticle in its superiority to the Pagan ode ; 
as part, indeed, of the more joyous music which the Resurrection brought into the 
world. So thought not Milton. In common with others before him who had 
condemned rhyme as a barbarous innovation, he congratulated himself, on the 
publication of his great epic, that he had avoided ‘ the jingling sound of like 
endings/ and had thus restored to ‘ heroic poems ancient liberty from the trouble¬ 
some and modern bondage of rimeingd It must not, however, be supposed that the 
art of blank verse can be expounded in a few words. It is an iambic metre—the 
measure which in various forms is most frequently employed in our literature; five 



45 6 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


feet, or ten syllables to each line, the iamb dominating, but relieved by certain 
licenses, and the changing natural pauses in successive lines giving variety and 
music to the verse. For example, observe both the accent and shifting pause in 
Milton’s pathetic lines :— 

‘ Thus with | the year 


‘ Seasons 
Day, or 


return | ; but not J to me | returns 
the sweet | approach | of even 


or morn 
mer’s rose, 


Or sight | of ver- | nal bloom, | or sum- 
Or flocks, | or herds, | or hu- | man face | divine ; 

But clouds | instead, | and e- | ver-du- | ring dark 
Surrounds | me ; from | the cheer- | ful ways J of men 
Cut off, | and for | the book | of know- | ledge fair, 
Present- | ed with | a un- | iver- | sal blank 
Of Na- | ture’s works, | to me | expunged | and rased, 
And wis- | dom at | one en- | trance quite | shut out. 5 


The stately music of Milton has never been surpassed ; but there are many varieties 
of blank verse which should be studied, not forgetting the more elastic excellence of 
Shakespeare, the quiet strength of Cowper, the picturesque and simple beauty of 
our later Tennyson. 

The iambic line of five feet with rhyme constitutes what is known as heroic verse, 
and was largely used at one time, though now somewhat in disfavour. Pope gave 
to it the exquisite finish in which he delighted. We may, as an example, quote his 
lines on verse-writing as applicable here :— 

‘ But most | by num- | bers judge | a po- j et’s song ; 

And smooth | or rough, | with them, | is right | or wrong: 

In the bright muse though thousand charms conspire, 

Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire; 

Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear, 

Not mend their minds, as some to church repair, 

Not for the doctrine, but the music there. 

These, equal syllables alone require, 

Though oft the ear the open vowels tire; 

While expletives their feeble aid do join, 

And ten low words oft creep in one dull line: 

While they ring round the same unvaryed chimes, 

With sure returns of still expected rhymes ; 

Where’er you find “ the cooling western breeze,” 

In the next line it “whispers through the trees :” 

If crystal streams “with pleasing murmurs creep,” 

The reader’s threatened, not in vain, with “ sleep : ” 

Then at the last and only couplet fraught 
With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, 

A needless Alexandrine ends the song, 

That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. 

* * * * * 

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, 

As those move easiest who have learned to dance. 

’Tis not enough no harshness give offence, 

The sound must seem an echo to the sense : 

Soft as the strain when zephyr gently blows, 

And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; 





SOME OF THE POETRY WE READ. 


457 


But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, 

The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar. 

When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw, 

The line, too, labours, and the words move slow : 

Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, 

Flies o’er th’ unbending corn, and skims along the main.’ 

Another noble form of iambic measure is that adopted by Spenser, and which 
bears his name, consisting of eight lines of five feet, with one longer line of six feet 
to close—the Alexandrine, to which Pope alludes in the couplet above—three rhymes 
only being distributed to the nine lines. The trochee is the iamb reversed—that is, 
a long syllable and then a short. The longest poem in trochaic measure that occurs 
to us is Longfellow’s ‘ Hiawatha,’ but this is peculiar as being unrhymed. Another 
trochaic form is seen in ‘ The Raven,’ that sombre, weird production of Edgar Allan 
Poe. And more famous is Tennyson’s ‘ Locksley Hall.’ In illustration of the 
flowing anapaest we need mention only Byron’s ‘ Destruction of Sennacherib.’ These 
chief measures admit of a great variety of changes, and it is the privilege of genius 
to combine them in new forms. 

One word on the subject of revision, which has so large a place in the art of 
poetry. From the days of Virgil downward much importance has attached to the 
critical consideration of the verse written under poetic impulse. The Roman poet 
is said to have composed rapidly early in the day, and to have given the later hours 
to careful correction. Many have found the revision more difficult than the com¬ 
position. As Pope, the master of balanced verse, writes :— 

* Their own strict judges, not a word they spare, 

That wants or force, or light, or weight, or care.’ 

All the rapidity and power of Byron could not save him from gross errors which 
remain embedded in his poems from disregard of this art. It has been wisely said, 

‘ The file shapes, but begets no beauties; ’ yet no literary workshop should be without 
that implement. In this association we recall the suggestion of an American editor 
to his many contributors, ‘ Boil it down! boil it down ! ’ There is an unpoetic 
twang in the words, but the advice is, nevertheless, good for poets who, above all 
men, should deal in essences. 


♦ 


SOME OF THE POETRY WE READ. 

A Few Notes on the Modern Use of the Old French Metrical Forms. 

By J. W. Gleeson White. 

the triolet. 

This form, complete always in eight short lines, is peculiarly a product of the old 
French school of verse, and is in itself, to some extent, an epitome of all the rest. 
Almost new in English poetry, the first examples dating from a volume of poems 
published in 1873 by Mr. Bridges, it has yet won many friends, although, so far 






458 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


as diligent search by the present writer has been able to trace them, a selection of 
the best would fill but a few pages of this book. 

Flexible only in the rhythm and length of its lines, which are generally about six 
feet (syllabic feet, of course) in length, it is stern, and forbids tampering in all other 
respects, allowing but two rhyme-sounds for the whole of the lines. The lines 
themselves are repeated in a certain unalterable order; the first two serve again for 
the seventh and eighth, while the fourth is also a repetition of the first; no syllable 
even, in the best examples, is changed in these lines. But on each fresh appearance 
the words should, if possible, convey a fresh phase of the idea, the emphasis alone 
serving to mark the distinction. On studying the examples given, it will be found 
that the crux lies in the treatment of the fifth and sixth lines, while the way the 
third is connected with the fourth, and the neatness with which the final couplet is 
repeated to form a necessary part of the whole, and not a mere repeat to fill 
up the prescribed form, is almost as difficult. The following example is a very 
perfect one; it comes in a sequence of triolets by Mr. Austin Dobson, entitled 
* Rose Leaves.’ The first version ran :— 

‘ I intended an ode, 

And it turned into triolets. 

It began d la mode: 

I intended an ode; 

But Rose crossed the road 
With a bunch of fresh violets ; 

I intended an ode, 

And it turned into triolets.’ 

This has a literary interest apart from its own merits, as the critics, on its first 
introduction, blamed Mr. Dobson severely for attempting to English the word 
triolet. ‘ Suppose an audacious person were to extend the license, and introduce 
cabriolet as a thirdsman?’ said The Academy , on June 23, 1877. In spite of 
Mr. W. S. Gilbert, in Princess Ida , trying also to rhyme it to violet 

4 °h, dainty triolet ! oh, fragrant violet! oh, gentle heigho-let! (or little sigh) ’— 
toe word remains French j and in a later version Mr. Dobson has re-cast the poem. 

* I intended an ode, 

And it turned to a sonnet. 

I began d la mode. 

I intended an ode ; 

But Rose crossed the road 
In her latest new bonnet. 

I intended an ode, 

And it turned to a sonnet.’ 

This may be better rhyme, but the raison d'etre is gone; it has not turned to a 
sonnet, but is still a triolet. 

To understand the form more clearly, it is best to take one and dissect it, 
thereby showing its structure. To avoid mutilating a master’s work, and possibly 
misinterpreting it, I will take one in my possession, not yet published, printing it, 




SOME OF THE POETRY WE READ. 


459 


not as it would be, but displayed (to use a technical term), thereby exaggerating the 
emphasis with which the writer intended it should be read. 

‘A Waverer. 

‘ She has a primrose at her breast: 

I almost wish I were a Tory. 

/ like the Radicals the best, 

SHE has a primrose at HER breast, 

Now is it chance she so is drest? 

Or must I tell a story? 

She HAS a primrose at her breast: 

I almost wish I WERE a Tory.’ 

Here we see the whole is a soliloquy in the historic present tense. The first two 
lines explain the incident, the third the speaker’s own comment on it, noting in the 
fourth how it differs from his own opinion. In the fifth he meditates on the reason 
which has affected him. In the sixth he wavers between insincerity and politeness 
or truth and the chance of conveying a sense of unfriendliness; while in the last he 
concludes that it is a fact they differ, and, still undecided in action, wishes the 
reason had not existed, so that he might sincerely agree with the supposed Primrose 
lady, and avoid feigning a political acquiescence of opinion. So trifling an incident 
will not bear analysis on its own merits, and is merely dwelt on to explain the 
structure of the verse. 

A triolet should be complete in itself. In a very able article in the Comhill 
Magazine (July, 1877), Mr. E. W. Gosse points out the danger of a fascinating 
tendency to connect a sequence of triolets. The constant recurrence of the lines 
would soon become fatally monotonous. One or two at the most are bearable. 

A typical pair appeared in a number of The Century (January, 1883). 
Thoroughly American, they show well, first the half-bantering, half-real feeling of 
the poet, artificial in expression, yet not altogether untrue, while her answer shows 
the American girl pure and simple, the conventional courtesy of the first being 
happily balanced by the naive frankness of the second. 

‘What He Said. 

‘ This kiss upon your fan I press— 

Ah ! Sainte Nitouche, you don’t refuse it? 

And may it from its soft recess— 

This kiss upon your fan I press— 

Be blown to you a shy caress, 

By this white down, whene’er you use it, 

This kiss upon your fan I press— 

Ah ! Sainte Nitouche, you don’t refuse it.’ 

‘What She Thought. 

* To kiss a fan ! 

What a poky poet! 

The stupid man, 

To kiss a fan, 

When he knows that—he—can, 

Or ought to know it— 

To kiss a fan / 

What a poky poet! ’— Harrison Robertson . 




460 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Yet another American one, by H. C. Bunner, may be quoted to show a subject 
not at first sight so suitable to the triolet form. 

*A pitcher of mignonette, 

In a tenement’s highest casement: 

Queer sort of flowerpot, yet 
That pitcher of mignonette 
Is a garden in heaven set, 

To the little sick child in the basement, 

A pitcher of mignonette, 

In the tenement’s highest casement.’ 

If space allowed there are other dainty flowerets to be culled from this bunch of 
French exotics, which seem to be cultivated more in America than at home at 
present. None of our greater poets has, I think, published a triolet. The influence 
of this form is seen in Mr. Swinburne’s oft-quoted poem ‘ A Match ’ (‘ If love were 
what the rose is ’) : and Longfellow has an evident translation of one, although he 
has not followed strictly the peculiar repetition of the lines. 

But many of our younger poets have published triolets. Mr. Austin Dobson is 
facile princeps in this form (as indeed in nearly all these Provencal rhythms), while 
Mr. John Payne and Mr. Andrew Lang rarely if ever use it, although rondeaux and 
ballades are very frequent in their volumes. Miss Pfeiffer has used it once. Miss 
A. Mary F. Robinson has a very charming triolet sequence ‘ Fiametta,’ which almost 
reconciles one to the connected triolet. But two or three variations from the strict 
form, while relieving the monotony of the poem, prove yet more strongly the truth 
of the warning given by Mr. Gosse. Miss May Probyn in her volume a Ballad of 
the Road , has several good specimens, and here and there among periodical 
literature sufficient are to be found to warrant a hope that the dainty little epigram¬ 
matic verse may yet pass into accepted currency, and supply for epigram or pretty 
trifling fancies the place the sonnet has acquired for the presentation of stately 
images and profound thought. While the very care with which the accepted form 
may be filled up appears at first sight to augur great popularity, probably that very 
reason has made writers more cautious in using it, since it can be so quickly abused 
and made unbearable doggerel, unless the recurring lines have a reasonable pretext 
for their repetition. Finally, a word of advice to those who attempt a triolet. 
Choose a slight, fanciful incident; let the rhymes be exact and easy; and be 
content with the ‘ suggestion ’ (which, like a clever sketch) it gives of some trivial 
event or idea, avoiding complex subjects or too deep thoughts, for which the form 
is not well suited. 

THE RONDEL, ROUNDEL, AND RONDEAU. 

The next to be noticed here of the old Troubadour forms of strict verse (that have 
been revived among English poets during recent years) are three somewhat akin in 
name—the Rondel, the Roundel, and the Rondeau. But although the names are 
occasionally used at random by careless writers and critics, yet as written now there 
is a very noticeable difference between these three. At the same time they all show 
distinct evidence of their evolution from the Triolet, and have more than a sugges¬ 
tion of what we may regard as their final shape—the sonnet This last for many 
centuries ruled alone in the field of verse in fixed forms, so that in English until 
very recently the others were practically unknown. A few early Rondels and 
Rondeaux, rarely of pure form, may be found by students of our poesy of earlier 





SOME OF THE POETRY WE READ. 


461 

times, but except these, the sonnet was not only the most favoured but practically 
the sole survivor of the old verse shapes. While the sonnet has gained its reputation 
as the most perfect form to express a single thought clothed in splendid imagery; 
yet Rondels and Rondeaux are capable of conveying with grace and power subjects 
varying from satire and epigram on the one hand, to pathetic and impassioned 
sentiment on the other. Any attempt, however, to force these more playful shapes, 
to sustain the stately and solemn thoughts which the sonnet so well conveys, is 
almost a foregone failure. The sumptuous metaphors and sonorous lines which 
mark that classic shape, sound dangerously near bathos when the refrain that is 
peculiar to Provencal verse reiterates its phrase. For such dainty verses, epigrams, 
conceits, and pretty trifles may be displayed in neat workmanlike rhymes, and with 
a certain airy grace which assists the theme. Nor is tragedy impossible, as Villon 
has shown in some of his Ballades; but even the 1 Gibbet/ with its terrible burden, 
has a fantastic grimness about it that in its bitter cynicism carries the whole poem 
along with a power in the words almost masking the shape in which they are thrown. 

The Rondel is supposed by tradition to have been invented at the Court of King 
Thibaut IV., a favourite starting-point for many a legend of the arts. Charles 
d’Orleans is the master of its use (he was a grandson of Charles V., and born May, 
1391); but although he wrote the Rondel pure and in conformance with all its laws, 
he frequently called it a Rondeau or Chanson. Before explaining the rules which 
govern the Rondel, I must take the liberty of quoting one by Mr. Austin Dobson, 
. first printed in Mr. Gosse’s article before mentioned : 

‘Too hard it is to sing 
In these untuneful times, 

When only coin can ring, 

And no one cares for rhymes! 

Alas for him who climbs 
To Aganippe’s spring ; 

Too hard it is to sing 
In these untuneful times ! 

His kindred clip his wing, 

His feet the critic limes ; 

If Fame her laurel bring, 

Old age his forehead rimes; 

To hard it is to sing 
In these untuneful times ! ’ 

This is a pure example, using only two rhyme sounds (‘ imes * and ‘ ing ’), 
having the first two lines repeated exactly for the seventh and eighth, and the 
thirteenth and fourteenth. The rhymes are arranged A, B, A, B—B, A, A, B— 
A, B, A, B, A, B. The only variation is in the order of the rhymes, which is always 
less important in these shapes and those yet to be considered than in the Triolet. 
The old rhyme order was A, B, B, A—A, B, A, B—A, B, B, A, A, B; but if the 
refrain is only kept in its proper place the difference is really trivial. M. de Banville 
sometimes uses but thirteen lines, which is a much more important variation. It 
will be noticed that the refrain of two lines, being twice repeated, would soon make 
this form monotonous, unless very skilfully treated; this has doubtless caused the 
Rondeau to be more widely used in preference ; but first the Roundel claims 
attention, particularly as used by Mr. Swinburne in his great tour de force , ‘ A 



462 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


Century of Roundels.’ This book is a marvellous instance of one form only, used a 
hundred times, with infinite variety of rhythm, accent, and sty e, ye a ways m s ri 
obedience to the rules of the shape he has chosen, viz., a Roundel of eleven 1 . 

The refrain, only a portion—sometimes but the first word—of its first line, supplies 
the fourth and final lines. By thus curtailing the recurrent phrase it will be seen 

how the monotony of the Rondel is escaped. , t 

A very fine one is called ‘ A Roundel,’ and takes for its subject how a Roundel 
is wrought,’ but as that is perhaps more widely known, the following may be quoted 
—a very dainty one — 1 Etude Realiste, III.’ : 


‘ A baby’s eyes, ere speech begin, 

Ere lips learn words or sighs, 

Bless all things bright enough to win 
A baby’s eyes. 


Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies, 
And sleep flows out and in, 

Sees perfect in them Paradise. 


Their glance might cast out pain and sin, 
Their speech make dumb the wise, 

By mute glad godhead felt within 
A baby’s eyes.’ 


Other forms of the Rondel are used by Marot, Villon, and others. Rossetti’s 
translation of Villon, ‘ Death, of thee do I make my moan, may be cited, while 
Leigh Hunt’s delightful little poem called a 4 Rondeau ’ must be noted, although 
side by side with these pure examples it will be seen that it is only a reflection of 
the form, but one so beautiful that it deserves quoting in full, if only to show how 
far it is from even a rough attempt at either Rondel or Rondeau: 

‘Jenny kissed me when we met, 

Jumping from the chair she sat in. 

Time, you thief, who love to get 
Sweets upon your list, put that in ! 

Say I’m weary, say I’m sad; 

Say that health and wealth have missed me; 

Say I’m growing old, but add— 

Jenny kissed me.’ 

It has been reported lately that the incident giving rise to this was as follows:— 
Leigh Hunt had procured a pension from the Royal Bounty for the Carlyles, and, 
calling with the good news, Mrs. Carlyle in her impulsive Scotch fashion jumped up 
from her chair and kissed the poet. If this is true it adds interest to the charming 
little verse. 

But neither Rondel nor Roundel has so caught the public ear as the Rondeau, 
particularly in the shape used by Mr. Austin Dobson, itself a modification of the 
Rondel, as he notes in his paper on these forms in Latter Day Lyrics. This form 
of the Rondeau has thirteen lines, allowing only two rhyme-sounds, and using only 
the first four syllables (usually) of its first line for the refrain which does not rhyme. 
The rhymes run in this order: A, A, B, B, A—A, A, B with refrain—A, A, B, B 
A, A, and refrain. The lines are generally of eight syllables, and in this as in all 






SOME OF THE POETRY WE READ. 


463 


these forms the rhyme-sound must not only be always new in sense but new in 
sound; thus, ‘ claim ’ and ‘ acclaim ’ should not be employed in the same poem; nor 
are such rhymes as ‘ hart ’ and ‘ heart ’ permissible. The end words must all be 
employed but once; this rule is inflexible, and if here and there, in translations 
especially, great poets break it, the force of peculiarly exacting circumstances which 
caused a master to exercise the attribute of genius, and to follow the uncomplimentary 
couplet, 

‘ Genius consists in breaking rules ; 

A wise man’s precepts may be kept by fools,’ 

must not be held to allow young writers to imitate such license, for the sake of 
increased ease in writing, for if genius cannot be learned yet grammar may be 
acquired. But even correct rhyme and rhythm, the basis of all verse, will not alone 
suffice to ensure success in these fixed forms, without a close adherence to the 
special rules governing them. These laws may seem arbitrary and cramping; if so, 
it is easy to avoid using them entirely, but, as Mr. Austin Dobson observes, ‘ What 
better discipline, among others, could be possibly devised for those about to versify 
than a course of Rondeaux, Triolets and Ballades ? ’ 

The Rondeau is so likely to be the form chosen for a first attempt that the above 
warning may be timely before describing it further. Here is an example in 
Mr. Dobson’s manner somewhat, but not by him. Those who do not possess his 
two revised volumes, Old World Idylls , and At the Sign of the Lyre , can so easily 
obtain them, at a library or by purchase, that it seemed best to select less readily 
accessible ones for quotation : 

‘Her China Cup. 

{Rondeau.) 

* Her china cup is white and thin, 

A thousand times her heart has been 
Made merry at its scalloped brink, 

While in the bottom painted pink 
A dragon meets her with a grin. 

The brim her kisses love to win, 

The handle is a mannikin, 

Who spies the foes that chip or chink 

Her china cup. 

Muse! tell me if it be a sin : 

I watch her lift it past her chin 

Up to her scarlet lips and drink 
The Oolong draught. Somehow I think 
I’d like to be the dragon in 

Her china cup.* 

This was printed in the Century Magazine for March, 1882, without author’s name; 
in this periodical many examples of all the old Provengal shapes have appeared 
during the last ten years, notably a set of five Rondeaux of ‘ Cities,’ a burlesque 
< Chant Royal,’ by H. C. Bunner, and many dainty little conceits in Triolets and 

Ballades. 

The Rondeau just quoted is a very good specimen of its lighter use, and flawless 
in construction, although the ‘ thin ’ and ‘ been ’ of its first two lines hardly rhyme 



464 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


neatly to an English ear; but far more serious thoughts can be fitly expressed in its 
fourteen lines. Mr. Richard Wilton, in a volume, Sungleams, has written many of 
a reflective and religious character. Mr. John Payne has published some very 
beautiful ones, and Mr. A. Lang has used it occasionally, but Ballades have of late 
almost usurped his verse. One recently published in Time , from the pen of a young 
writer, Mr. Arthur G. Wright, may be quoted next, to show the form when used for 
nature-picture poems: 

‘When Summer Dies. 

‘When summer dies, the leaves are falling fast 
In fitful eddies on the chilly blast, 

And fields lie blank upon the bare hill-side, 

Where erst the poppy flaunted in its pride, 

And woodbine on the breeze its fragrance cast. 

And where the hawthorn scattered far and wide 
Its creamy petals in the sweet spring-tide 

Red berries hang, for birds a glad repast, 

When summer dies. 

Gone are the cowslips and the daisies pied, 

The swallow to a warmer clime hath hied, 

The beech has shed its store of bitter mast, 

And days are drear, and skies are overcast, 

But love will warm our hearts whate’er betide, 

When summer dies.’ 

The Rondeau may also well serve for burlesque or political satire, as the refrain can 
be introduced with a very happy point in this way. Some years ago the London , a 
society paper, gave many humorous comments on passing follies in the shape of 
Triolets, Rondeaux, and Ballades. During 1877 and 1878 every issue of the paper 
held several; but the rage, which lasted in force during the ‘ aesthetic period,’ died 
with the decadence of that mania. N ow that aestheticism (if it ever really existed) 
has vanished, we must see that the real good it did, and the revival of good taste it 
inaugurated, does not perish with it Its influence on our furniture and decoration 
is as strong as ever; and because these ‘ forms ’ were assigned to that school—with 
little reason, since the poet and apostle of the aesthetes, Mr. Oscar Wilde, has only 
one (a Villanelle) in his volume—it will be a pity to allow them to be thrown aside 
with the follies and affectation of the ‘ intense 5 ones, now relegated to the obscurity 
of other fashions which once held sway. Having personally examined many 
hundred volumes of modern poetry, there is little reason to fear that the strict verse 
forms of the Troubadours will be again abandoned. The last few years can show 
quite as many as former ones, but written, it must be said, by names of less note 
now, possibly by the budding Shelleys and youthful Shakespeares who are to be 
acknowledged in the new century eleven years ahead. So far as the present writer 
has been able to discover, neither Lord Tennyson nor Mr. Robert Browning has 
published a single poem cast in any of these shapes. Nor, to name a few others at 
random, Mr. Robert Buchanan, Mr. William Morris, Mr. Lewis Morris, or 
Mr. Alfred Austin. Longfellow translated several, but in doing so disregarded the 
sound of the rhymes, now looked upon as the one inflexible rule which of itself 
distinguishes these verse shapes. In no other school of poetry do we find the 
adherence to one set of rhyme sounds for the whole poem so insisted on, and 
supreme in all the different forms of its verse. Many lyrics of our own and other 




SOME OF THE POETRY WE READ . 


465 


nations use the refrain, or burden, as frequently as the Provengal writers; but the 
distinct character imparted to their poetry, from a fixed set of rhymes, is unique, and 
in itself enough to separate verse written after the old Troubadour fashion from all 
other poetry. 

The Villanelle, Ballade, Sonnet, etc. 

The villanelle has been written more often than might be expected, for the 
monotony of its refrain is apt to weary soon, as the first and third lines of its initial 
stanza repeat through its entire length. It has a subtle pastoral flavour which has 
tempted many modem writers to choose this shape for ‘ season ’ and ‘ country ’ 
subjects. In quoting an example one may be found that in itself describes the 
villanelle. This feat of making a verse shape describe its own rules has been 
always a favourite with rhymesters; the literature of the sonnet shows many a one. 
Mr. Swinburne’s roundel was mentioned before. Mr. Austin Dobson, in note 9 to 
his early edition of Proverbs in Porcelain , has a translated rondeau with this 
theme, while the following graceful lines appeared in London for August 18, 
1877 :— 

* A dainty thing’s a villanelle— 

A precious little gem in rhyme, 

And serves its purpose passing well. 

A double-clappered silver bell 

1'hat must be made to clink in time— 

A dainty thing’s a villanelle. 

Although unfit a tale to tell 
Of plot or passion, care or crime, 

It serves its purpose passing well. 

You must not ask of it the swell 
Of organs, grandiose and sublime— 

A dainty thing’s a villanelle. 

And if you wish to flute a spell, 

Or test your prowess as a mime, 

It serves its purpose passing well. 

To send a sugared kiss to Nell, 

To ask a meeting ’neath the lime, 

A dainty thing’s a villanelle. 

Or filled with satire, as a shell 

Is filled with sound, and launched in time. 

It serves its purpose passing well. 

A floweret sweet to see or smell, 

Transplanted from a happier clime, 

A dainty thing’s a villanelle. 

And even here where poets yell 
Among our London glare and grime, 

It serves its purpose passing well. 

Itself its only parallel— 

Sly, musical, a rhythmic dime— 

A dainty thing’s a villanelle; 

It serves its purpose passing well.’ 


2 H 



466 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


Provided but two rhymes are used, and the refrain alternates as in the above, 
any number of stanzas may be written. Six, however, suffice for most writers of 
this form. 

The sestina is a form not very frequently chosen of late. Of its influence on 
Dante’s Divine Comedy , and its earlier use, space forbids digression. It is now 
written usually in six stanzas of six lines each, with an envoy of three lines. Here 
rhyme-sound repetition yields to the word itself being repeated. 

As an entire sestina would occupy too much space, it must suffice to quote a 
few lines from one by Mr. E. W. Gosse :— 

‘ In fair Provence, the land of lute and rose, 

Arnaut, great master of the lore of love, 

First wrought sestines to win his lady’s heart, 

For she was deaf when simpler staves he sang, 

And for her sake he broke the bonds of rhyme, 

And in this subtler manner hid his woe.’ 

In this sestina Mr. Gosse has chosen end words that do not rhyme (but that is 
allowable if the writer prefers it), but the words ending each line of the first stanza— 
that is the important rule—end those of each following one, but in altered order. 
The second stanza ends with woe—rose—rhyme—love—sang—heart. The third, 
heart—woe—sang—rose—love—rhyme, and so on in new order each time, until the 
envoy, which introduces the six words in this way :— 

‘ Ah ! sovereign love , forgive this weaker rhyme , 

The men of old who sang were great at heart , 

Yet have we, too, known woe , and worn thy rose' 

The freedom of the sestina, in spite of the words coming again and again, is 
probably greater than any of the other shapes, for the words are, of course, chosen 
either to bear frequent repetition, or so ordinary that they pass unnoticed. There 
are also examples of a double sestina with twelve verses of twelve lines each, and 
envoy of six—one by Mr. Swinburne and another by Mr. George Barlow, entitled 
‘ Alone,’ in a volume of poems, A Life's Love. The title has an ominous fitness, 
in spite of the skill which Mr. Barlow has shown; the shape is evidently visible, and 
too unwieldy for modern taste. 

The rondeau redouble is so little akin to the rondeau that it was purposely left 
out of consideration there. It is curious that so simple and pleasing a form should 
prove to be the least used of any. The first stanza of four lines supplies (each line 
in order) the final lines of the next four stanzas, with the first phrase of the initial 
line repeated as a refrain at the close of the last verse. 

The kyrielle, the virelai, the pantoum , and a few other forms, are divergences 
from those noticed, interesting, but so rarely used that only the last need be 
described. This, the pantoum, is in stanza of four lines, the second and fourth line 
of first verse form first and third lines of the next, through all its stanzas, which 
only cease when the writer is tired, which is usually long after the reader has ceased 
to feel any interest in this very wearisome shape. Every line is repeated once only, 
but the repeat coming but four lines off, is fatally monotonous, as after the first verse 
half of each has just been heard in the previous ones. Here is the opening of a 
pantoum:— 




SOME OF THE POETRY WE READ. 


467 


‘ In the burning August weather— 

Steam and swelter, gas and glare— 

Oh ! to lie among the heather, 

With the wind among my hair I 

Steam and swelter, gas and glare, 

Noise, and dust, and tittle-tattle 
With the wind among my hair, 

Oh ! to watch far off the battle! * 

And so on for over a dozen verses. 

The ballade, with its various kindred forms—the ballade of double refrain and 
the chant royal —is the last of the old French forms to note. This is now so often 
used by modern writers that it may in time be as little an exotic as the sonnet. It 
is, nevertheless, a very distinct and inflexible shape to handle neatly; but the very 
difficulty is so apparent that the slight tension with which the next rhyme-sound is 
awaited may, like a clever suspension in music, be the source of intense pleasure 
when the resolution comes. Here Mr. Andrew Lang is supreme. He has 
made the ballade the form par excellence for verse crowded with lore of all sorts, 
especially of books and bric-k-brac. To study one of his charming ballads is in 
itself a lesson in the form, since his XXII. Ballades in Blue China (afterwards 
issued as XXII. and X. in an enlarged edition) took the hearts of educated people 
by storm. He has produced many, and nearly all full of a subtle charm, not easy 
to analyse, and still more hard to imitate. Allusions to proper names that form 
the needful rhyme are so cleverly introduced that whether the name was chosen for 
the rhyme, or the rhyme decided on purposely to suit the name, none but he could 
say. Here he loves to sing of Aldines and Elzevirs, of rare editions of old-time 
books ; here, too, he gives a real touch of pathos on Nature generally, as seen from 
a pent-up Londoner’s view. It would be easy to quote a dozen, and yet include 
but a portion of his very best ones, but space and courtesy forbids so large a 
quotation, and as in Lofigmaris Magazine, in the American Century, and many other 
contemporary periodicals, he often prints fresh poems in this form, there will 
be little difficulty in hunting up his delightful conceits. Rhymes d la Mode 
contain many. So again in his books, The Library, Books and Booknien , and 
Theocritus , ballades appear which are well worth searching out. To him must 
be awarded the honour of having led the way in the study of the ballade, and 
its master, Francis Villon, of Paris. In 1872 Mr. Lang published his volume, 
Ballads and Lyrics of Old France, opening up the poetry of Francis Villon, 
Charles d’Orleans, and others for the first time to English readers. The unac¬ 
countable neglect, even in France itself, of these old poets, until within the last 
few years, is curious; although from his choice of subjects as well as manner of 
treatment Villon must needs be a poet for scholars and readers rather than the 
general public. Mr. John Payne has since translated the whole of Villon’s works 
into verse that excites one’s admiration, not only by its intrinsic beauty, but at the 
marvellous skill by which works wrought in a foreign language of an obsolete form 
have been imitated with great fidelity, not of the words alone, but subject to 
the technical rules of that verse which these pages have tried to describe. 
Mr. Swinburne has also translated many of the housebreaker-poet’s ballades. The 
life of Villon is not adapted for the readers of this book, but wonder that in the wild 
career he led—thief, murderer possibly, rascal certainly—he should yet write such 

2 h 2 






THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK 


468 ____ 

manly poems, pictures of a depraved society, but keenly sensitive to the vices and 
follies of the day, moralising in no unreal fashion on the life he himself pursued, 

hatred for the sins he did is lost in pity for the sinner. 

But to return to the ballade, which inevitably recalls the name of \ lllon. it is 
impossible to avoid quoting Mr. Lang, since, it may be, some of the readers ot this 
book do not know his volumes. This is a very typical one a 


‘Ballad of Literary Fame. 

“‘All these for fourpence.” 

‘Oh, where are the endless romances 
Our grandmothers used to adore? 

The knights, with their helms and their lances, 

Their shields, and the favours they wore? 

And the monks, with their magical lore? 

They have passed to oblivion and Nox , 

They have fled to the shadowy shore,— 

They are all in the Fourpenny Box 1 

And where the poetical fancies 
Our fathers rejoiced in of yorer 
The lyric’s melodious expanses, 

The epics, in cantos a score? 

They have been, and are not : no more 
Shall the shepherds drive silvery flocks, 

Nor the ladies their languors deplore— 

They are all in the Fourpenny Box! 

And the music, the songs, and the dances ? 

And the tunes that time may not restore? 

And the tomes where Divinity prances? 

And the pamphlets where Heretics roar? 

They have ceased to be even a bore,— 

The Divine, and the Sceptic who mocks,— 

They are “ cropped,” they are “ foxed ” to the core; 
They are all in the Fourpenny Box ! 

Envoy . 

Suns beat on them, tempests downpour 
On the chest without cover or locks, 

Where they lie by the bookseller’s door; 

They are all in the Fourpenny Box!’ 


The terms ‘ cropped ’ and ‘ foxed ’ refer to the cut edges and spotted state of 
old books, as all collectors know; but perhaps the terms may be new to some of 
the readers of this book. 

The above, with many a quaint turn of a line, half-pathetic, half-humorous, is a 
fair sample of a style Mr. Lang has made his own; but having quoted the example 
first, it will be as well just to note the laws of this shape; yet if the other forms 
have been followed through these remarks, the rules will be almost evident at a 
glance. 

The ballade consists of three verses, usually of eight lines, and a verse half the 
length, called the envoy, which begins with a dedication, ‘prince’ or ‘ princess 9 







SOME OF THE POETRY WE READ . 


469 


generally in the old ballades. Many subtle rules, one that the number of lines in 
each stanza should equal the number of syllables in the refrain, are not now insisted 
on. Each stanza and the envoy close with the refrain, which should in itself 
embody the ‘ text ’ or ‘ subject ’ of the whole poem. The rhymes are limited, not 
as in rondeaux and rondels, to two, for a third sound is introduced to rhyme with 
the refrain; while stanzas of ten lines allow four rhymes in all, used in this order 
for the eight-line stanza—A, B, A, B, B, C, B, C, and B, C, B, C, for the envoy; 
for the ten-line stanza—A, B, A, B, B, C, C, D, C, D, and C, C, D, C, D, for the 
envoy. A slight variation in the order of rhyme sounds (provided, of course, that 
it extends through the whole of the verses) is allowed. The ballade with double 
refrain repeats the fourth line of each stanza, unaltered in the following ones, and 
uses it also as second line of the envoy. The chant royal, considered by many 
writers to be the final tour de force of poetic composition, is thus epitomised by 
Mr. H. C. Bunner: ‘ It was reserved for the celebration of divine mysteries, or for 
the exploits of some heroic race. It is composed of five stanzas of eleven lines, 
all using the same set of five rhymes in the same order, and each ending with the 
burden or refrain. To this is added an envoy of five or six lines, ending also with 
the refrain, and beginning with an address to some dignitary, as “prince” or 
“ baron.” ’ The chant royal, ‘The God of Wine,’ by Mr. E. W. Gosse, put in the 
Cornhill article before mentioned, has the honour of being the first of its kind in 
English. Owing to the length of a chant royal, it is impossible to include a complete 
example here, and a stanza extracted would fail to convey the effect of the whole 
poem. 

The sonnet is so widely known, and written in such enormous numbers, that 
space forbids its being adequately treated in these pages, especially as Mr. William 
Sharp’s Sonnets of this Century , obtainable in a shilling edition, has an exhaustive 
essay on the sonnet and technical analysis of its form, and gives besides, some 
hundreds of examples of the best modern ones. This little volume has extended 
the rage for the sonnet even beyond its previous limits. One amateur lately 
volunteered to send an editor two thousand of his own for critical comment, so that 
sonnet writing is a malady to be discouraged. A form bristling with technical 
difficulties, and already possessed of a copious literature, in all European and 
some Eastern tongues, may be respected. The proverb that ends * where angels 
fear to tread ’ should not be rashly provoked against him by the amateur poet. As 
this chapter has shown, there are many other forms available, the practice of 
which will at least tend to improve the versifier in rhyme and rhythm, and also in 
compressing his poem to limits probably more in accordance with its intrinsic 
merits than the epic, formerly the delight of young poets. It is by no means to be 
wished that Provenqal forms should usurp the field of poetry. A true poet will no 
doubt always feel the shape his verses may best take by instinct, and only use 
artificial restraints of this character when the subject is suitable, but to these who 
write a little, it may give additional pleasure to try their muse loaded with chains, 
which may crush a feeble rhymer, but can not only be worn gracefully, but made a 
decorative adjunct, when the skill acquired is equal to the demand. The taste for 
these forms is undoubtedly an acquired one, but no less pleasant on that account. 
Because we love native flowers best, yet we do not despise those exotics which 
demand extra care and attention, but in return yield fragrance of their own and 
diversify the monotony of one style only, be it in flowers or verse. 



CHAPTER XI.—EDUCATION. 


HOW TO IMPROVE ONE’S EDUCATION. 

HE numerous readers of The Girl’s Own Book must 
vary so much in age, position, and education, that it is not 
possible to write on such a subject as we have chosen 
exactly in the way that will give most satisfaction to 
everyone. Nevertheless we will undertake to say that 
no girl who carefully reads what follows on the question 
of self-improvement will regret having done so; on the 
contrary, it is hoped that each one will be either re¬ 
freshed or encouraged, or stimulated to adopt at once 
one of the methods here suggested for increasing her 
own usefulness. 

The subject of ‘ Finishing Schools ’ will be a familiar 
one to many. In all probability some who read this 
will already have left such an establishment, with a 
‘ finished ’ education ; it is hoped to attract and rouse 
these to the reality, that as long as we live we shall find something to learn, and 
that our life and our education must terminate at the same time. 

There are also probably many among our readers who regret that they have not 
been able to enjoy the privileges that a dear friend has enjoyed, so far as early 
teaching is concerned. More than this, that circumstances have arisen to cause a 
gap in educational work just at the time when the mind is most ripe to receive 
instruction. Perhaps, too, during this unfortunate period much with which one was 
once familiar has been lost, hopelessly lost, it seems. Let these remember that it is 
never too late to learn, and that much can be done in the way of making up 
deficiencies in early education by patient and persevering study. One’s own desire 
and strength of purpose are large factors in such work : we hope to guide the way 
and encourage those who are patiently plodding on. 

Another class of readers, possibly not a very small one, if one could see the 
silent assent which follows the reading of the remark, may include those who, having 
been provided with the best means of obtaining instruction, have not felt a suffi¬ 
ciently strong desire to learn much. They have done what was absolutely necessary 
to be done at school, but were glad when the time came to leave school. Let us 
hope that at least these also fall within the number of those who are really desirous 
to do something for self-improvement. 

Though it would be possible to select other classes of readers, we will rest 
satisfied for the present with asking (i) all those who think they know all that it is 
necessary for them to know; (2) all those who, from a variety of circumstances apart 
from themselves, have been unable to receive a good education; and (3) all those 

















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HOW TO IMPROVE ONE'S EDUCATION. 


473 


who, having had the opportunity of good teaching, have not been able to appreciate 
it, and so have lost much from their want of wisdom, to spend a quiet half-hour 
with us. 

The question now occurs, What is a good education ? Opinions vary very much 
as to what standard should be acknowledged as the test of a good education, but 
no one will dispute the point that position in life must always be an element in 
determining this. For instance, the education which one would call good for the 
upper classes in a Board school, would not be entitled to the same epithets in the 
upper classes of our middle class and high schools ; and what would be a good 
education for the housemaid could not be considered in the same light when speaking 
of the ladies of the house. In every grade and rank of life, however, the intelligence 
which is given to us has to be cultivated, and it behoves each one to do the best 
that is possible to improve and elevate the mind. It has been said that ‘ the best 
part of one’s education is that which one gives to oneself.’ If this be realised, 
then there can be no stronger inducement necessary to urge forward those who have 
hitherto thought it impossible to teach oneself. 

Begin to study at once. As soon as the effort is made, much pleasure and a 
good deal of knowledge will be sure to follow. We shall not now expect to be met 
with the remark, ‘ Yes, some people are clever, and can work alone;’ only believe 
that all people can work alone, and do very much real good to themselves, if 
they will not be faint-hearted, and give up in despair at the first difficulty which 
presents itself. 

But we have not yet fixed our standard of what we ought to know. Let us 
adopt, then, as our motto the well-known words of a well-educated man who decided 
that we ought to know ‘ something of everything , and every thing of something.’’ Let 
us also remember with this the French proverb, ‘ Les demi-connaissances sont plus 
dangereuses que l’ignorance.’ 

The field is wide when we feel that we must know something of everything, but 
then we have made up our minds, and we shall not readily be turned aside by 
difficulties. We already, too, have a foundation of general education to work upon, 
and the whole of our life may be devoted to the perfecting of our mind. The question 
now is, How are we to work ? 

Well, one has to find out what one already knows, and this may be done by 
testing oneself by getting copies of questions given at a general examination, say the 
College of Preceptors, for instance, and answering these questions. Of course one 
must be very strict with oneself with regard to keeping the rules and correcting 
the papers when done; no fault must be allowed to pass unnoticed, and one must 
answer the question at o?ice —that is, at sight; no looking up of little points must 
be allowed when once the questions have been read, and everything must be done 
in the given time. 

It would be well, if not very advanced, or not in the habit of working exami¬ 
nation questions, to test oneself first with third-class papers, then with the 
second, and so on. When finished, the answers may be compared with a book on 
the subject and all mistakes marked. Something is now accomplished. The 
difference between real and fancied knowledge has been made plain, and knowing 
now what you do not know helps to fix for you what you want to know. Now 
take a schedule of some examination, or form a definite plan of work, fixing 
the subject or subjects of study, and the time to be devoted to it, taking care to 



474 


TEH GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


keep most steadily to the plan laid down. Make it a duty , and remember that 
4 England expects that every man will do his duty,’ and every girl too ! 

Before saying more on the details of study, we will consider a few points of 
general interest. They will not be exhaustive, neither will they be new to all our 
readers, but they will, it is to be hoped, open out some new veins of thought to 
many minds. To those who are very anxious to* work we say,— 

1. Do not attempt too many subjects of study at once if you are much occupied 
with household duties or engaged in teaching. Remember that regular and system¬ 
atic study spread over a period of time, even though the time be in half-hours, 
will enable one to store up a good deal of knowledge in the course of a few 
years. To those who think differently let me say very earnestly try it. 

2. Make an effort to surround yourself with useful books. Many girls find in 
their homes wonderful stores of books; they know the book-cases, but are often 
astounded when an occasional visitor tells them that the information they seek is 
in such and such a book, on such and such a shelf in a particular book-case in their 
own home ! besides having books, know what is inside them, examine and criticise 
them as you do your acquaintances, and be able to give the good and bad points 
in them. Make them your friends and companions. You will seldom have time 
to feel dull. With many, however, the case is different, and it is not easy always 
to get books. One good plan to adopt is to keep a list of books by you that you 
really want, and when asked by friends what you would like for a birthday present, 
Christmas present, &c., &c., to name one or two of your long-desired friends. 

3. Cultivate the friendship of those who are better informed than yourself; take 
every opportunity, without of course being tedious, of talking with well-read people, 
listening with the utmost attention, and asking for explanations when you do not 
understand. Much help and guidance in the choice of books may be obtained from 
these people. 

4. Read carefully and thoughtfully. The habit of reading many story books 
and missing over the ‘ dry ’ parts is very unhealthy, and is by no means a good 
preparation for study. Nothing can make up for the want of regular and careful 
reading. 4 Reading,’ as Bacon tells us, 4 maketh a full man;’ he also gives us 
a very good piece of advice on reading, 4 Read not to contradict nor to believe, but 
to weigh and consider,’ preparing us for the fact that much that we read must be 
questioned and tested before we are to accept it as fact; and this throws us back 
on the judgment of those who are wiser than ourselves and who best know what 
books we should read. The same great writer tells us further that 4 some books 
are to be tasted and then to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.’ 

5. In order to be quite sure of the real benefit to be derived from reading it is 
necessary to examine oneself from time to time and recapitulate and summarise 
what has been done. Another good plan is to keep a book for extracts. 

The following is a good introduction to such a book:— 

4 In reading authors, when you find 
Bright passages that strike your mind, 

And which perhaps you may have reason 
To think of at another season, 

Be not contented with the sight, 

But take them down in black and white ; 

Such a respect is wisely shown, 

It makes another’s sense one’s own.’ 





HOW TO IMPROVE ONE'S EDUCATION. 


475 


6. It is also a good plan to write short essays on subjects that have been read. 
This will help wonderfully in giving readiness and precision in expressing one’s 
thoughts, and is also a guarantee that one knows a subject. It is not possible to 
write clearly upon a subject of which one is altogether ignorant. 

7. Where possible it is also a good plan to discuss certain points in reading. It 
is an advantage to acquire the habit of good speaking. Many people speak indis¬ 
tinctly, or incoherently, who are of necessity obliged to speak in public. This would 
not happen if the art of speaking or debating were more usually adopted. A few 
girls, sisters and their friends, might have weekly, fortnightly, or monthly meetings, 
choose a president or umpire, and speak on a given subject, say for five or ten 
minutes each, with very great advantage. Of course it is hardly necessary here to 
suggest that the subject should be prepared, and that there should be no gossip and no 
temper admitted into these little societies. An afternoon tea would be a genial close. 

8. Another interesting mode of self-improvement, known and practised possibly 
by many readers of this book, is that of forming a kind of literary society, or club, 
the members of which write papers on given or self-chosen subjects, to be read 
and remarked on it in writing by each member of the club. The prize schemes 
of The Girl’s Own Paper are a public form of this method; an appreciated 
one also. 

9. Among girls, too, it is very customary to have Dorcas meetings. It is a 
good plan here for one to read aloud. A lighter kind of literature, or poetry, will 
form a pleasant and healthy recreation here, as well as at the evening needlework 
where fathers and brothers join the circle, and sometimes become the readers. 

Many more points occur as showing their advantages, but doubtless our readers 
have already framed some additional ones of their own; if so, our object in this 
respect is already gained. 

Books, then, are within reach, and we hope also that every girl has some one to 
guide her in the choice of books; may she use them well when she has them! 
She will not regret the work when she has acquired the knowledge which gives 
pleasure in its search, enjoyment in the possession and satisfaction in its distribution ; 
which makes her a happier, more intelligent, and more useful member of society, 
and a helpmeet for the best of men. 

Having already discussed a variety of methods by which one can do something 
towards improving oneself, it now remains to speak specially of the actual work 
to be taken in hand. Writing for English girls, it scarcely seems necessary to 
remind them that they should know their own language well, and that excellence in 
English studies should be our first , though not our only, aim. 

I. English Studies. —To be a fair English scholar it is necessary to be able to 
speak and write in a clear and correct manner. Elegance and grace of style may be 
added to these, but though they charm us much they are not absolutely essential, 
while clearness and accuracy are altogether indispensable. To procure these 
qualities one requires a good sound knowledge of English grammar and analysis of 
sentences. When one always associates with well-educated people, one naturally 
acquires the habit of good speaking; nevertheless it is really essential that one 
should know and be able to apply the laws of language. Unfortunately, the study 
of English grammar has not always been made as easy and clear as it might 
be, and it is more than probable that many readers of this book, have decided 
that grammar is ‘ very dry;’ to these especially we would say that the subject is 



476 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


most interesting, and will not only repay you for any labour you may bestow upon 
it, but will give you much pleasure. Of the most clear and useful books on this 
subject, and most to be depended upon, the following may be named : Efighsh 
Grammar a?id Analysis , arranged in a series of lessons for home use, by George 
Gill, price 2d. ; English Grammar , by Dr. Morris, is., published by Macmillan in 
the Primer Series; Mason’s English Grammar, published by Bell and Daldy; 
MorelFs E?iglish Grammar and Analysis, published by Longmans, London; The 
Handbook of the English To?igue, by Dr. Angus, published by the Religious Tract 
Society, 56, Paternoster Row. The two first of these are quite easy books, anyone 
may understand them ; the last is for more advanced students, and Craik’s History 
of the English La?iguage is a useful book to study with it. All these books may 
be consulted with advantage; but it is not necessary to use them all to attain to a 
satisfactory degree of proficiency, while it is possible that many of our readers 
already possess some of them without actually knowing their worth. Having studied 
well the use of every word, and acquired the power of applying the rules of syntax, 
the next phase of our work lies in reproducing our own thoughts, of putting down 
for the eye to see what the mind has taken in. This is really what we call co??iposition. 
No one who has studied her grammar well can write incorrectly, though it is not equally 
easy to all persons to find words to express their thoughts at once. A few hints 
here : Make up your mind what you want to say, and say it in the simplest manner 
possible. Never use a long hard word when a short easy one answers exactly the 
same purpose. Never use a word of the meaning of which you are not quite sure; 
(look in the dictionary if you have a doubt). Avoid long sentences. In writing 
letters be perfectly natural, and write as you would speak if the person to whom you 
are writing were present. 

Style in composition depends largely on the command of language that one has, 
that is, the number of words that come readily to one, as well as one’s power of 
imagination. A good style may be best obtained by the careful reading of well- 
written books, and by trying to write from memory abstracts of what one has read. 
A good rule, too, to be observed in speaking is to avoid careless and inelegant 
speeches, and to speak as if what were being said were going to be put into print at 
once. The habit of exact, methodical speech, and of writing, in the most choice 
language, may be acquired by all who will take the pains to do so. Of the art of 
composition, Angus gives much help in the book already mentioned, and there is a 
composition primer in Macmillan’s Series. A book on English Composition, by 
Johnson, for pupils preparing for examination, and published by Longmans, also 
contains a good deal of useful information, put in a simple manner, and the speci¬ 
mens of exercises or short essays written by pupils is encouraging, and shows what 
can be done by ordinary people in this way. Of course it is not expected that these 
should all be perfect, and many girls doubtless will be inclined on reading some of 
them to say that they are not very good. Some at least will be encouraged by the 
use of this book. 

Before proceeding further, it would be well here to remind the reader that though 
several books will be named on each subject of study, it is not in the least intended 
that they should all be consulted at the same time. The intention is rather to help 
the many, which must include students in various stages of mental growth ; as well 
as to cover the ground of the various books which may already be in the hands of 
those who read this, and therefore to save expense in buying what is necessary. 





HOW TO IMPROVE ONE'S EDUCATION. 


477 


To the student who works alone we will advise the use of one or two books at a 
time, and these mastered first, then a wider reading. The case is quite different 
where a good teacher is at hand to reconcile and explain the apparent differences 
which exist in different books on the same subject. 

i. Of Arithmetic every girl should have some practical knowledge. One must 
keep up the practice of bills of parcels, the use of weights and measures, the working 
out of sums for wall-papering and carpeting, as well as know something of interest 
and stocks. All bills should be tested, and no girl who has the full charge either of 
her own or another’s money should think of spending it without keeping a strict 
account. It should be easy also to calculate how much the odd ounces of the meat 
should come to, as well as the quarters of yards of dress material, &c. 

2. English Literature, too, is a necessary part of a complete education, and 
much may be added to the store of knowledge on this subject during the whole of 
life. A knowledge of the chief writers of our country, with the time in which they 
lived, and the kind of work they wrote, should be perfectly familiar to us; and of the 
most important among them one should know something from direct reading of their 
style. The powers of observation and comparison should be sufficiently trained to 
help each one to form an opinion for herself, in preference to repeating the opinion 
of another, though much deference should be given to the opinions of well-read 
people. Chaucer’s Prologue , at least, should be well studied among the old 
writers; Spenser’s Faery Queen , should not be a stranger to us; and Sir Philip 
Sidney’s book on Criticism , Bacon’s Essays , and some other writings of those 
times, should be quite mastered. Of course, Shakespeare will be widely read. The 
separate plays published in the Clarendon Press series, with notes, are very useful 
for those who study Shakespeare, a work which gives immense pleasure and profit. 
Some of Milton’s prose works, as well as his poetry, the poems of Dryden and Pope, 
and Johnson’s Lives of the Poets, should be read. One should also know some¬ 
thing of the works of Addison, Defoe, Scott, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey,. 
Lamb, Burke, Cowper, Jane Austen, Lord Brougham, Tennyson, Thackeray, Dickens,, 
Miss Mulock, Maria Edgeworth, Macaulay, and many others too numerous to> 
mention here. It is of mental culture only that we are now treating, and we there¬ 
fore do not specially name religious books, doctrinal or devotional, which have their 
own higher claims. 

To study carefully English literature, Stopford Brooke’s Primer, in Macmillan’s 
Series, will be found a great help, both to those who know very little and to more 
advanced pupils. Chaucer to Wordsworth , by T. Arnold, published by Murby, is 
a larger and most useful work. The Biographical History of English Literature, 
in Morell’s Series, published by Longmans, is prepared specially for students who 
are not very advanced, and has many helps in the form of questions and notes. 
Angus’s Specimens of English Literature, a companion volume to his Handbook 
of English Literature, also will be found most valuable. Nothing, however, should 
deter students from reading some of the best works of our great authors for them¬ 
selves ; the common practice of reading some other person’s view of a book, and 
of giving it out as one’s own, is by no means to be admired. Honesty in this, as 
in every other work of life, will bring its own reward. 

3. English History, like English literature, forms a wide field of study; but 
intelligent reading in a systematic manner will abundantly repay all who will make 
up their minds to read up this subject for one or two hours a week. For those who 




478 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


feel they know very little on the-subject, Edith Thompson’s little book will be a 
pleasant teacher; but there are so many good books on English history that it is 
difficult to say which is best. It is only right, however, that no one should expect 
any single book to be perfect. The Student's Hume is one of the long-established 
histories, and those who k?iow it well maintain that it is too useful to be set aside for 
more modern works. Green’s History of the English People is a most enjoyable 
book, but unless the reader is fairly well informed on history, she will find after 
reading it that she does not retain a clear and comprehensive view of the subject 
This book should most decidedly be read ; but it should be used as the companion 
of Student's Hume , which is quite different in style. Bright’s Public School 
History of England is certainly one of the best books that can be used ; but there 
are three volumes, costing respectively 4s. 6d., 5 s., and 7 s. 6d. 

In studying history it is a very good plan to fix upon a certain period, a reign, or 
a dynasty, for instance, and get up very thoroughly all its details. The lives of the 
chief men taking a prominent part in the history of their time should be read from 
another source, where not sufficiently related in history; the literature of the time 
should be read where possible with the history of the time in which it appeared; 
Shakespeare’s historical plays should be read side by side with the his'ory which 
they represent, and so on. The Epochs of History (Longmans) will here be of 
great use. 

Every student of history should read Dr. Arnold’s Lectures on Modern History , 
as well as those of Professor Smyth : they could be obtained from any good library, 
and are valuable as showing what great teachers of history think to be necessary, 
and also in helping us to form judgments on historical events. For the few who are 
already well informed, and require deeper or more general historical reading, we 
would recommend that some acquaintance be made with White’s Nineteen Christian 
Centuries , Collier’s Great Events of History , Macaulay’s Essays, Biographies , and 
History , Hallam’s Constitutional History , and the works of Froude, Freeman, 
Stubbs, and Erskine May. 

4. Geography as a study is so closely connected with history that it is scarcely 
possible to be well informed on the one subject without having a fair knowledge of 
the other. Geography may be studied in a variety of ways; it is possible to reduce 
it to a dry series of hard words; but it is also possible to make it one of the most 
delightful and enjoyable of studies. Much may be learned through the eye; indeed, 
a railway journey may be made intensely interesting (and far less fatiguing than it 
sometimes becomes) by following from time to time on a good railway map the 
stations, rivers crossed, &c., and deciding the county in which they are situated, 
noticing the direction (winding or otherwise) the river follows, the nature of the 
district, whether flat or hilly, whether pasture or cultivated land, whether the crops 
look good or poor, what the crops consist of, &c. In passing through railway 
cuttings the nature of the underlayers of the earth will be shown, and those who 
know a little geology will here find much to interest them. A boat journey on a 
fine day may be equally instructive. Few people will deny that a journey by rail 
through the Peak district, or from Exeter to Penzance, or by steamer through the 
Kyles of Bute, or from London to Plymouth, may not be made extremely instructive. 

There are many good books on geography, but a good atlas is absolutely 
indispensable to an intelligent study of geography, no matter how good the book 
may be. Much is also to be learnt from good guide-books, such as Black, Murray, 




HOW TO IMPROVE ONE'S EDUCATION. 


479 


Baedecker, and more than most people seem to realise, from WhitakePs Almanack . 
To work well at geography the student should accustom herself to draw maps (not 
trace them), in which she fixes exactly the things which she knows something about, 
whether mountains, rivers, lakes, or towns. Books of travels will be found to give 
excellent geography lessons, and they should in all cases be read with the map in 
hand, every place should be found ; and this remark also applies to historical reading. 

Every English girl should know well the geography of the British Isles (some 
charming descriptions of scenery by Wordsworth and other poets, as well as Scott’s 
Lady of the Lake, give a charm in this), and of the colonies and dependencies of 
Great Britain. The history of the latter should also be known; this would greatly 
add to the interest which attaches to the questions of the day. We ought to know 
something of the countries which supply us with food. Does every girl realise that 
the food raised in our own country would only maintain the inhabitants of the 
country two days in the week, and that for the remaining five days we depend upon 
other countries ? 

Then we should also know the countries which buy our manufactured goods, 
and those which supply us with raw materials, &c. We ought also to be familiar 
with the countries near us, those which we may probably visit some day, if we 
have not already visited them. 

Some of the best books for the study of geography are Hughes’s Ma?mal 
of Geography (Longmans), Clyde’s School Geography (Simpkin and Marshall), 
The World of Waters, and Recreations in Physical Geography, by R. Zorulin 
(Parker and Son), Milner’s Geography, edited by Keith Johnston (56, Paternoster 
Row), and the most comprehensive book, published by Stanford, is called, Geography: 
Physical, Historical\ and Descriptive. It is a charming book, but rather expensive. 

5. Elementary Science should also find a place in the studies of all girls of 
the present day. The present has rightly been called the ‘ age of science,’ and 
there are so many good books on the subject that every girl could fairly well teach 
herself something of such subjects as botany, physiology, geology, &c. The pleasure 
of a country walk is increased tenfold to all those who have made even small 
progress in the study of botany or geology, and all the pleasures of a visit to the 
country, or a holiday at the seaside, may be recalled by looking over one’s collection 
of plants and stones made during these times. Railway cuttings, sea-cliffs, and 
other places of disregard to many people become objects of intense interest to the 
young geologist, while of the practical advantages to health accruing from a 
knowledge of physiology one could write for some time. 

Macmillan’s Science Primers, is. each, are capital books on special subjects, 
but will require a good deal of industry on the part of the student. 

II. On the Study of Foreign Language and Literature. —Of foreign 
languages French is the most universally studied, though German is much more 
generally learnt now than formerly. As the only sure method of acquiring any 
proficiency in any language depends upon a thorough knowledge of its grammar, we 
begin at once to discuss the question of the French grammars. Of these, none is 
better than Baume’s, published by Simpkin and Marshall (1st volume, 3s. 6d.). It 
contains neither too little nor too much. Its rules are simple, and the exercises 
eminently practical, while the 2nd volume (4^.) containing the syntax, is invaluable. 
To all those who are familiar with Smith’s Principia Latina, the French books on 
the same principles are likely to be acceptable ; and Household French, by Havet 



4^o 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


(Sampson and Low), is a very practical French grammar. For those who have 
much time to give to French and wish to learn the conversational style, we recommend 
the complete French course by Havet. The familiar phrases, however, used in 
daily life, as well as accurate accent, cannot be obtained from books, and can only 
be acquired by colloquial lessons from a teacher possessing skill to guide conversation 
and to correct errors. 

As reading books, Cassal and Karcher’s Modern French Readers (Trubner) are 
very good. The junior course commences with anecdotes and short tales, and 
concludes with longer and very interesting stories. The second part contains 
extracts from the best contemporary writers, and is especially useful as showing 
the real idiomatic style of the most distinguished authors of modern France. 

Having mastered the grammar, and acquired a good stock of idiomatic expressions 
by these means, the student should now begin to translate from the English into 
French, in order to acquire facility of expression, and the application of the rules 
already learnt. The first book for this purpose should be Neven’s Letters and 
Conversations , for translation into French (Williams and Norgate). It contains 
extracts from French authors translated into English, to be re-translated into French. 
The Key contains the original French. This arrangement lightens considerably the 
work of the student, by arranging the English in a more easy manner for putting 
into French. The English into French , by Van Laun (Public School Series), 
may be used in a similar manner to this book. It has three volumes, but these 
three together are cheaper than Neven’s book, and, moreover, each volume contains 
a good vocabulary. Half-hours of French Translation , by Mariette, is a good 
book, but rather difficult. In making a special study of idioms, First Steps in 
French Idioms, by Bue (Hachette), will be found very useful; but the book which 
every student who wishes to know French thoroughly should use is Le Questioimaire 
Franfais , by Karcher (Trubner). It contains quesiions upon all the niceties of the 
language, and its systematic use must of necessity produce a thorough knowledge 
of French. 

In reading French we would say that instead of devoting one’s time to extracts 
from different authors one should read short original tales, such as those of Souvestre, 
viz. : ‘ Au coin de feu,’ * Recits et souvenirs,’ ‘ Sous la tonnelle,’ &c. After this 
we should recommend Erckman and Chatrian’s stories, as Madame Therese, Le 
Co?iscrit de 1813, Waterloo, F histoire d'un pays an, &c. The reader cannot 
fail to be interested in these works, and their natural, simple, and conversational 
styles make them extremely useful. 

Hachette and Co. have published some very good reading-books for advanced 
students, with explanatory notes, and biographies of authors, &c. The volumes 
devoted to About, Musset, and Tdppfer are excellent; Colomba , by Merimee, is a 
most valuable book, the notes, explanations of difficult passages, idioms, &c., being 
beautifully rendered. 

French poetry may now be studied, and no better books for this can be found 
than Cassal and Karcher’s Anthology of French Poetry (Longmans) and Staaf’s 
Litt'erature Fran<;aise , especially the fifth volume. 

Classic French authors may now be studied, such as Moliere’s LAvare, Le 
Misanthrope, Les Precieuses Ridicules , Racine’s Athalie and Esther, and Le Cid 
by Corneille. Hernam, by Victor Hugo, may be studied for the purpose of 
comparing classic and modern tragedy. 




HOW TO IMPROVE ONE'S EDUCATION. 


481 


For those who are beginning or are not far advanced in the study of German, 
Schmid’s Tales, is., published by Nutt, will be found useful. They are extremely 
simple. They have no vocabulary, but steady use of the dictionary is an advantage 
sometimes. For comparison of English and German words few books will be found 
as useful as Neuhofer’s Ger??ian Vocabulary (Norgate); and Aue’s Elementary 
Grammar , published by Chambers, is. 6d., will clear up most difficulties, as well as 
Meyer’s Grammar (Collins), which is 2 s. 

For the second stage of study in German, Buchheim’s Deutsches Theater, with 
notes and vocabulary (Norgate), 2s. 6d., will be found a very useful work, while 
more advanced students will find Prose Compositions for Tra?islation into German, 
by Buchheim, extremely serviceable. 

As such full directions have been given for the study of French, it is not con¬ 
sidered necessary to enter into further details on German, but no student should 
consider herself proficient in German till she can read Schiller’s Wilhelm Tell. 

III. Music and Drawing are generally classed as ‘accomplishments,’ and 
formerly so much time was devoted to them (especially to music) by some girls that 
they scarcely had time to do anything else. Now, however, music with most people 
takes its place as one of the required subjects of education. There cannot be a 
doubt about music being a universally favourite subject, and one which gives very 
much pleasure to most people. With a few exceptions we may say that people of 
all ages and all ranks love music; and music often has the most soothing effect on 
the sick and suffering. There are many inducements to urge one, then, to persevere 
in the study of music, and every girl who does not live entirely for self will strive to 
do her very best in cultivating her voice and in improving her playing. To those 
who are unable to take lessons from a good teacher, we would say that a daily 
practice of scales and exercises for at least twenty minutes (not necessarily together) 
is absolutely necessary. No one who really follows this out will find herself at a 
loss to appreciate the help of an occasional lesson, which we should strongly 
recommend. One other point: be most strict with yourself as to time: always 
count in your daily practices. The best exercise books to use are Carl Engel’s 
Piano School, and Bertini’s Petits Morceaux et Preludes, both published by 
Augener and Co. dementi’s Sonatines and Kuhlau’s Sonatas, also published by 
Augener and Co., afford excellent practice, giving good work to the left hand as well 
as the right. 

As a study-book we recommend most highly A Plan for Teaching Music to a 
Child, by Mrs. Frederick Inman, published by Simpkin and Marshall (is. 6d). It 
gives a great deal of very valuable instruction to those who teach themselves as well 
as to those who teach others. Mrs. Inman has a musical soul, and is perfect as a 
teacher of music. She has done and continues to do much good in helping to 
establish a love of good music. 

The fourteen lessons in harmony, by J. E. P., published in the English Mechanic 
and World of Science from June 26 to Oct. 14, 1874, will more than reward every 
student who will carefully study them. By all means get them if possible. 

To those who have only the use of the harmonium, as well as to others, we would 
remark that the practice of playing hymn tunes is one of the best chord exercises, 
setting aside the extreme usefulness of being able to play hymns well. Girls living 
in the country are often liable to be called upon to play the harmonium in church, 
and only those who have undertaken to do so without sufficient practice will realise 

2 1 



482 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


the importance of giving some attention to this subject, while those who regret the 
want of a piano may console themselves with the knowledge of being able to 
‘ manage ’ the harmonium. Sunday music at home too, especially in country houses, 
is a source of real pleasure, when the family join in psalms and hymns and spiritual 
songs, making melody in the heart. 

To all who play we would advise strongly the cultivation of the power to 
accompany songs. To accompany well requires a special training, a sympathy 
must be established between the song and the instrument, and the pianist does 
much towards making or marring a song. There must be a gentleness, a power of 
adaptation, and a certain forgetfulness of self in a good accompanist; no desire to 
exhibit great execution, but the greatest grace in giving utterance to fhe most gentle 
sounds in order to add charm and effectiveness to the voice. All girls with brothers 
will find themselves wonderfully repaid for the efforts they make in doing their best 
when playing songs for them, and many a happy evening may be spent in practising 
together such an elevated form of self-improvement. Everyone is more or less 
familiar with songs, but there are one or two books we would recommend for family 
and social use. Kinderfreu?id , Parts I. and II., and The Garland Song Book 
(with piano accompaniment), published by Boosey and Co., are among these; also 
the German Song Book (the family singing book), by F. Weber (Augener and Co.), 
and Murby’s New Tunes to Choice Words, Parts I. and II. Some progress in 
music may be made by every person, though all cannot become great musicians. 
Milton tells us that 4 music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,’ while Shakespeare 
says that 4 The man who has no music in himself, nor is not moved with concord of 
sweet sounds, is fit for treason, stratagems, and spoils.’ 

Of drawing there is much to be said. It too has a refining influence on the 
mind, and is a very able educator of the eye, the hand, the taste, &c., besides having 
a very effective use in making ourselves understood when we come face to face with 
people who do not understand our language, and we are reduced to representing 
our wants in rough sketches, or when one wishes to make oneself understood in 
giving suggestions or directions to workmen. All people cannot draw, but all people 
could be taught to draw, and it is not too much to say that, with proper teaching, 
drawing would be as easy and familiar to most people as writing is. 

Among the higher influences of drawing we wish specially to speak of the 
cultivation of taste in form and in colour, in proportion, and in combination, &c. 
Mr. Ruskin says that 4 Perfect taste is the faculty for receiving the greatest possible 
pleasure from those material sources which are attractive to our moral nature in its 
purity and perfection. He who receives little pleasure from these sources wants 
taste ; he who receives pleasure from any other sources has false or bad taste.’ We 
should strive, then, to cultivate this true taste, and not be led away by the varying 
tastes of fashion. 

With regard to improving one’s drawing, the means seem greater than in many 
things. With a careful eye, a patient hand, and a diligent study of the object before 
us, we can do much by ourselves. One thing will be well to remember, not to be 
too ambitious, then we shall give sufficient time to secure success in our work step 
by step. Much help may be got by watching others draw, and only those who draw 
themselves will note all the little details which are secret springs of success, such as 
manner of holding pencil, of fixing light and shade, of sketching roughly, and lining 
in, of laying on washes, &c., &c. It is wonderful how much more interest one takes 




HOW TO IMPROVE ONE’S EDUCATION. 


483 


in drawings generally when one draws oneself, and with how much more real 
benefit and pleasure one visits a picture-gallery or art collection when one knows 
even a very little of art work. 

The Science and Art Department, South Kensington Museum, has done much 
to advance the teaching of drawing in England, and more especially among designers 
and artizans, and they have issued many excellent copies and models, besides which, 
they test the proficiency in drawing of every grade of persons, and grant certificates. 
No better lesson could probably be given to anyone striving to improve in drawing 
than would be obtained by inspection of the drawings annually exhibited in the 
Museum, and no greater encouragement. Vere Foster, too, has done much in the 
same direction, and his books on drawing and on writing are well known throughout 
the country. A series of papers on sketching from Nature appears in this volume. 
The Handbook of Drawing, by W. Walker (Seeley, Jackson, and Haliday), is certainly 
one of the most helpful of books that could fall into the hands of those who simply 
want guidance and counsel in their great work of self-help. 

IV. Needlework and Housekeeping are the special and sole duties of women, 
and those who are ignorant on these subjects are much to be pitied. The happiness 
of life depends on the home, and the housekeeper has much to reproach herself with 
if discomfort and misery result from any neglect or ignorance on her part. In these 
days of cooking lessons, ambulance lectures, lectures on health and physiology, &c., 
and in the face of innumerable books which exist on the subjects of household 
interests, it seems scarcely possible that anyone could be quite ignorant. To our 
reader, we recommend the use of Home Comfort , by J. Stoker (Stewart and Co.), 
The Chemistry of Common Things, by Macadam (Nelson), Home Duties (Thomas 
Laurie), and careful study of the papers in The Girl's . Own Paper , on ‘ The 
Difficulties of a Young Housekeeper, and How She Overcame Them,’ by D. Hope. 

Improvement in needlework is so thoroughly within the means of every girl that 
it seems scarcely necessary to mention them. Of course, practice, and patience, 
and determination not to be satisfied unless one does the best that can be done, are 
among the secrets of success. For those who are not obliged to work for themselves, 
the dressing of dolls for children’s hospitals, and the making of garments as charity 
gifts, are good inducements to call forth earnest work. To those to whom the making 
and mending of their clothes is a necessity, we repeat, ‘ try, try, try again.’ If you 
have a garment that fits you well, take the pattern of it to make others from, and 
never be above asking someone to show you how to work; there always will be 
ready at hand kind and generous people who delight in helping those who help 
themselves. 


2 I a 




CHAPTER XII.—REMUNERATIVE WORK. 


—•— 

WORK FOR ALL. 

Introductory. 

YEAR or two ago strolling through the cemetery of 
St. Andrew’s, the Canterbury of Scotland, and trying, 
as our manner is, to figure to ourselves the living 
presence of those who lay asleep beneath our feet, 
besides sculptured coffins of ancient abbots and 
bishops, we were much struck by tombstones bearing 
modern inscriptions such as this— 

Andrew Morrison, 

Gardener; 
or, James Baillie, 

Ploughman ; 

or, Andrew Murdoch, 

Slater; 

and pondering much on this retaining after death the 
workday costume, as it were, of life, it seemed to us to 
give the key to the excellence and success of the Scottish race, whether it came to 
them with the great gift of education, or whether it be part and parcel of the 
manliness which makes the poorest Scotchman able to hold his own in argument 
against a duke or a ‘ minister.’ They are free from the canker which has marred 
the lives of many Englishmen and more Englishwomen; they are not ashamed of 
their work, even though it have to do with the building of common houses for poor 
folk to dwell in, or the turning of the clods of the earth to grow common pot-herbs 
and vegetables. The man who has passed his life in hard and simple work is not 
ashamed when he passes out of it to couple his occupation with his name, and his 
sons, when they lay him reverently to rest, think they do him honour when they 
record the kind and quality of his work. 

The age of ge?itility it is to be hoped is passing away in England, and a healthy, 
vigorous life is opening for women no less than for men. No good work could, in 
the nature of things, be done by women who hid it away as something to be ashamed 
of, and thought nothing did them so much honour as white hands and silk dresses. 
The abundant wealth of the country is no doubt largely responsible for this ; men 
have made money so freely that there has been ‘ no occasion ’ for the daughters to 
work, and those who have been less successful have thought that they lost caste if 
their daughters did what their neighbours did not, and, as in China, artificial restraints 
were resorted to, to keep the fair young things delicate and idle. 

How little wealth has added to the happiness of the world is, perhaps, scarcely 
concevable, but it exercises a despotism over men’s minds -which cripples the 
reason. Essentially of this world and earthly, it reigns supreme, and even poets and 














» 


HOME WORK 

























































































WORK FOR ALL, 


487 


philosophers in England gather wealth, and leave it to their heirs. But the time 
seems to be come when women, who now in England are in the majority, must think 
for themselves on the question of work, as well as on other great social questions. 
Women are by nature sympathetic and active; they are also by nature pious ; they 
read the Bible. Let them read it not as a talisman to be repeated and not thought 
of, but as a living guide of conduct, and they will find on every page of the New 
Testament the enforcement of the decree pronounced on Adam when he left the 
Garden, ‘ In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.’ If toil is the punishment, 
it is also the solace of life, and no human being is truly well and happy who does 
not do a reasonable amount of honest work. A man (using man in its widest sense 
of human being) who does not work is like a chrysalis, unformed and unsightly, with 
the beauty in which Nature intended him to be clothed all folded up and undeveloped. 

Owing to various causes, into which it is unnecessary to enter here, women in 
the middle classes of English society are at the present time much in excess of men. 
In consequence of their number, and perhaps as a part of their social enfranchise¬ 
ment, women are now looking for occupations outside the home—not because home 
is less dear to them than it was to their mothers, but simply because such a home is 
not possible for them, and because if they do not find work their lives must be 
vacant, their energies unemployed, their very means of subsistence meagre and 
uncertain. It becomes all women, then, to look the matter fearlessly in the face, to 
see what is to be done, what can be done, and, by studying how to do some work 
thoroughly well, to make themselves self-supporting, industrious, and happy. 

Knowledge is easily carried, and no one is the worse for it ; true knowledge 
makes people humble as well as thoughtful, cures idle gossip, and gives a better 
centre for the mind to work from than narrow selfishness ; if it be but of the smallest 
art, it leavens the character and blows off the fads and fallacies that are born of 
idleness. 

Quot homines , tot sent entice —in this wonderful world no two human beings are 
alike. Can there be a greater sign of the infinite power of the Creator than the 
endless variety in beings that have so much in common? It is of the highest 
import in selecting the employments of a life to have regard to the temperaments 
and capacities of the individual, rather than to what may happen to be his wish at a 
particular time—systems which run all men through one groove carry the elements 
of failure in them, while many a man and woman has had reason to repent the too 
ready accomplishment of a wish, a too early success. 

It is not very long since teaching was looked upon as the only employment 
suitable to a gentlewoman, and while we would regard it as the first and highest 
profession, and one for which perhaps the majority of women are suited, it is an 
occupation which above all others requires a loving and sympathetic nature, and 
should on no account be thrust upon an unwilling or highly nervous temperament. 
It should be always remembered who deigned to be known as the ‘ Teacher,’ and 
should be accepted not as task work, but as a labour of love. If undertaken 
grudgingly, and as a hard necessity, it must be infinitely wearisome, and broken 
health, shattered nerves, and soured temper are the certain outcome of noble work 
done in an ignoble spirit. 

Next to the care and training of children comes the care of the sick, for which 
many women seem to have special aptitude; and it is to be wished that they were 
as largely employed in dispensing as well as in nursing. 




488 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


Next to the care of the sick would seem to come the management of finance, and 
the conducting and keeping of accounts offers good employment for young women 
of general training and intelligence. 

Women have often been regarded as made of finer stuff than men, more fitted to 
ornament and beautify life, and it is beyond dispute that their taste, delicacy of 
hand, eye for colour, and patience in elaboration fit them to be the decorators of our 
homes. How much pleasure may be given by the skilful selection of a drapery, the 
arrangement of a glass of flowers, or a well-composed dress ! That there are many 
branches of decorative art in which girls excel can therefore be no matter of surprise, 
any more than that girls show great readiness to come forward for training in the 
schools which have been recently opened to afford it. Facilities for studying art in 
its higher branches have always been considerable ever since the name of Angelica 
Kauffmann appeared on the roll of the first forty Academicians, and it may be 
doubted whether women acted wisely in opening an exhibition all for themselves, 
and whether it has done more than encourage poor and ineffectual work which had 
better never have been exhibited at all. 

Next to the art of painting in oil and water, with all its offshoots of china 
painting, painting on silk, velvet, &c., comes the beautiful art of carving in wood, 
which is calculated to afford true artistic pleasure to all who practise it, and which 
forms one of the most elegant and enduring of ornaments. 

Engraving on wood, or, as it was perhaps better called, cutting on wood, is also 
an elegant occupation. The demand for good work is practically almost unlimited 
(notwithstanding the modern use of ‘ Processes ’), and promises good remuneration, 
the ever-increasing number of illustrated papers and magazines affording a ready 
market for good woodcuts. 

For those who have not patience or love of teaching, or for caring for the sick; 
to whom the rule-of-three is an abomination, or who are not attracted by the study 
of form and colour, there remain employments equally useful to the community, and 
the remuneration for which is fair and certain, such as plan-tracing, type-writing, and 
printing, all of which are being successfully followed by women. Hair-dressing is a 
skilled occupation, requiring much taste and neatness, and one which appears in all 
respects suited to women, though it has not advanced with the speed expected, 
owing to the almost unaccountable fact that women actually like to submit their 
heads to the manipulation of men, and that men can be still found willing to pass 
their lives in such a calling. 

No summary of occupations for women would be complete which dii not include 
the fine arts of cookery and dressmaking—arts in both of which the Englishwomen 
of the nineteenth century have until recently been lamentably deficient, and both of 
which should be studied in the general interests of society by every woman who is 
likely to have to do with the feeding and clothing of a family. 

Music, z>., the art of producing sweet sounds, either with the voice or with the 
aid of artificial contrivances, has long occupied a prominent place in the education 
of girls ; but the art is so difficult that it seems to be felt more and more that it is of 
little use to spend time in the cultivation of it unless there be some natural taste and 
capacity for it. To those who possess this beautiful gift, many opportunities of culti¬ 
vating it are now open; but if exercised as a means of earning money, it is laborious 
in the extreme, and, except in cases of special fitness, is not to be recommended. 

Other ways of earning a livelihood open to women, we know of none, except 





TEACHING . 


489 


such as are designated in the report of the Society for the Employment of Women, 
Berners Street, London, as temporary employment, which consists principally of 
writing, i.e ., copying MS. or music, addressing envelopes, &c., often a valuable 
assistance to those who are seeking occupation, and helps them to tide over difficult 
times—but not requiring special training or special gifts, it is hardly to be treated of 
in a summary like the present. 


TEACHING. 

Teaching has always been accepted as work undeniably suited to a woman; so 
naturally her field, indeed, that, until the middle of the present century, it was 
generally supposed that she had an innate faculty and capacity for it, and that special 
training was quite unnecessary. It was, in fact, no uncommon recommendation to 
a lady who wished to undertake the intellectual and moral training of children, that 
she was ‘ quite a lady, and never expected to have to teach.’ Much has been done 
within the last quarter of a century to put this calling on a better footing—to make 
it, as it should be, the highest profession in which a woman can engage, and to 
awaken in the members of it a feeling of fellowship and self-respect. 

Girton College, Cambridge, deserves the first mention as the pioneer, which 
started with the purpose of doing for girls what has always been done for boys, /.<?., 
securing them leisure and opportunity to pursue their studies after the ordinary 
school course, and to prepare themselves systematically for the practice of their 
profession. Students are not, it is true, necessarily persons intending to become 
teachers. All young women who desire to continue their studies beyond girlhood 
are welcomed, but special encouragement and special help are given to intending 
teachers. There are several scholarships available for reducing the expenses, 
particulars of which can be obtained of the secretary, Mrs. Croom Robertson, 
31, Kensington Park Gardens, London. 

The college was opened in 1870 with six students in a hired house in Hitchin; 
in 1873 it was removed to a building erected for the purpose at Girton, near 
Cambridge. The college now forms a quadrangle, containing rooms for students, 
and ample accommodation for lectures, dining, &c. 

The college course is in all respects similar to that of the University, on which 
it was modelled, and it is desired to give a certificate of proficiency which shall be 
of equal value with the ordinary B.A. degree. 

The terms are three, and occupy each about eight weeks, so that half of each 
year is spent in residence, and the charge for board, lodging, and instruction is ^35 
per term, paid in advance. Entrance examinations are held in London in March 
and June. A fee of is charged. 

The course of study comprises divinity; modern languages; classics; mathe¬ 
matics, pure and mixed; natural science; moral science. Students may select 
their own course of study. 

The other colleges, of rather more recent foundation—Newnham Hall, at 
Cambridge; Lady Margaret Hall, and Somerville College, at Oxford—are almost 
identical in their system and in expense; the expense, indeed, at Lady Margaret’s 





49 ° 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Hall is slightly in excess of Girton. The avowed object of the foundation of this 
college is to procure for its students the protection and training of an academical 
house, on the principles of the Church of England, though members of other religious 
bodies are not excluded, while Somerville places students of all denominations on 
the same footing. 

All four colleges offer scholarships, full particulars of which can be obtained 
from Mrs. Croom Robertson, 31, Kensington Park Gardens, London, W., secretary, 
for Girton; from Mr. Bateson, secretary of the Association for Promoting the 
Higher Education of Woman, St. John’s Lodge, Cambridge, for Newnham ; from 
Miss Wordsworth, lady principal, Riseholme, Lincoln, for Lady Margaret Hall; 
and from either of the secretaries, the Hon. Mrs. Harcourt, Cowley Grange, Oxford, 
or Mrs. J. H. Ward, 5, Broadmore Road, Oxford, for Somerville. 

The ancient University of St. Andrew’s, Fife, alone of the universities of the 
country grants to woman a university title, LL.A., which is the equivalent of an 
M.A. for men. The centres for examination in 1888 were Aberdeen, Auxerre, 
Birmingham, Bristol, Brussels, Cheltenham, Coblentz, Dublin, Dumfries, Edinburgh, 
Kirkwall, Leeds, Lerwick, Liskeard, Liverpool, London, Loughborough, Madras, 
Newcastle-on-Tyne, Paisley, Paris, Pietermaritzburg, Simla, and St. Andrew’s. The 
next examination will be held on the nth, 12th, and 13th of June, 1889, and 
intending candidates should apply to the Secretary LL.A. Scheme, St. Andrew’s, not 
later than the 1st of March, 1889. The fee for examination is two guineas, which 
must be sent to Professor Knight, the University, St. Andrew’s, when the form of 
application for examination is returned. 

Candidates who obtain the title of LL.A. pay an additional fee of four guineas 
before receiving their diploma, or making use of the title. 

No candidate can be admitted to the St. Andrew’s LL.A. examination who does 
not hold the local examination certificate of a university, or the certificate of the 
College of Preceptors, or a government teacher’s certificate. 

There is no limit as to age in the LL.A. examination. 

St. Andrew’s offered the diploma of LL.A. first in 1877, when it was received by 
three students. The number has been steadily increasing, and in the present year 
no fewer than 591 candidates entered for examination. 

The University of London has opened its degrees to women, but as it is only an 
examining body, and does not supply teaching apparatus, St. Andrew’s is perhaps 
justified in the assertion made above, ‘ that it alone of the universities grants to 
women a university title equivalent to an M.A. for men.’ Most of the classes at 
University College, London, are open to women, and many are largely attended by 
them \ but it has been felt that there are serious objections to common classes in a 
large establishment like University College, where little supervision is possible, and 
the munificence of a lady, Miss Dudin Brown, has opened a London College for 
Ladies, for the preparation of students for the London University degrees. Present 
address : Westfield, Maresfield Gardens, South Hampstead, of which Miss Constance 
L. Maynard, certificated student in honours of Girton College, Cambridge, is 
mistress and hon. sec. Here students can enjoy the leisure and peace of academical 
life, and here religious teaching, conducted on Protestant principles, will form the 
basis of all study. The scale of expenses is similar to that at Girton and at the 
other colleges. 

Girls who do not aim at what has been called the higher education, or whose 




TEACHING. 


491 


means do not permit them to give so much time to preparation for their profession, 
can obtain help from the Teachers’ Training and Registration Society, which has 
opened a Training College for Teachers at 5, Fitzroy Street, Fitzroy Square. 

The cost of tuition is ^24 yearly, payable in instalments of £8 at the beginning 
of each of the three terms, and ioj. for stationery. 

Scholarships, varying in amount from £10 to ^24, have been annually awarded, 
and the Payne Prize (founded in memory of Professor Joseph Payne), of the value 
of about is given annually to the student who stands highest in the Cambridge 
Teachers’ Examination. 

The Teachers’ Training Syndicate of Cambridge holds an examination in the 
theory, history, and practice of teaching at Cambridge in June for persons who have 
completed the age of twenty before June 1st in the current year, and awards 
certificates to all who pass the examination satisfactorily. The fee for examination 
is jQ 2 toj*. 

The Home and Colonial School Society, Gray’s Inn Road, King’s Cross, 
London, also provides instruction in the art of teaching—the terms to resident 
pupils, between the ages of fifteen and thirty, are from ^45 to £50 per annum; 
to day students, ^15 per annum, or for six months. At the West Central 
Collegiate School, 29, Queen’s Square, Bloomsbury, teachers are trained for the 
Cambridge Teachers’ Examination—the fee is ^5 5^.; but in the case of any one 
who could be really useful in teaching in the school, the fee would not be exacted. 

This society has also a Kindergarten class for private governesses, school¬ 
mistresses, and pupil-teachers; but the principal Kindergarten training college is at 
31, Tavistock Place, which is open to all students above seventeen years of age who 
are otherwise qualified to enter the Froebel Society’s examination, i.e., who have 
passed the Oxford or Cambridge Senior Local, Higher Local, Society of Arts, First 
and Second Class College of Preceptors, &c. 

The college year is divided into three terms, each of about thirteen weeks; the 
fees are £20 a year, or ^7 per term, payable in advance. Names of candidates 
should be sent to Mrs. E. Berry, hon. secretary to the Froebel Society, 27, Upper 
Bedford Place. 

The teaching of deaf-mutes has lately attracted much attention; it commends 
itself to the sympathies of those who esteem it an honour to be able to help persons 
who suffer under special privation. A college for training teachers is established 
under Dr. Van Praagh, n, Fitzroy Square; the period of training is eighteen 
months, for which the fee is ^30. The salary for a thoroughly competent teacher 
is about ^70. 

We must now say a word or two about the schools, where girls may obtain the 
training which will qualify them to take advantage of the benefits offered by the 
various establishments we have enumerated. As Girton is the pioneer college, 
the North London Collegiate and Camden Schools for Girls, Sandall Road, 
Camden Town, must be honoured as the pioneer school, which, through the 
energy of its honoured head mistress, Miss Buss, has afforded to a vast number of 
girls opportunities of study which they could hardly have obtained otherwise. 

The fees per annum are sixteen guineas; to pupils who enter above the age 
of sixteen, nineteen guineas. There are numerous scholarships and prizes. 
Applications for forms of entrance should be made to Mrs. Alfred J. Buss, school 
secretary. 



49 2 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


The Girls’ Public Day School Company offer education at moderate terms in 
various districts of London and in many county towns. 

It is not to be supposed that the education to be obtained in any of these large 
and crowded establishments can be comparable to that which is given in private 
schools, conducted by accomplished Christian women, who care equally for the 
mind, soul, and body of the girls entrusted to them; but they are conducted by 
women of a high tone of character, who have thrown all their heart into the work, 
and if the mother be prepared to do her part at home, there is little doubt that 
great good may be done by them. Whatever benefit there may be in the stimulus 
of competition they enjoy in the highest degree; and we speak from personal 
knowledge when we say that the girls who leave the Camden schools are well 
prepared for work, and for the most part very earnest and capable. 

From the above notes we see that there is abundant opportunity for the 
preparatory study necessary to those who are disposed - to undertake teaching as a 
profession, and it will follow as a necessary corollary that there is little scope now 
for the amateur. 

In no calling, perhaps, is so much assistance offered to the student; the demand 
on the energies in the present high-pressure state of education is, it is true, often 
too great ■j but there is no calling in which, take it all in all, women are so likely 
to excel and in which the remuneration is more reliable. 

In the Girls’ Public Day Schools Company salaries vary from jTfio to ^180 or 
£200. Teachers in elementary schools under the School Board Act receive good 
salaries, and have short hours. Under the School Board two thousand certificated 
female teachers are employed; the lowest salary obtained by assistants is ^50 
per annum. 

The salaries of head mistresses of High and Public Schools, with the capitation 
fees, amount in the case of St. Paul’s, London, to ^2,000, and in the North London 
Collegiate School to ^1,300, while the minimum at Dolgelly, Wales, is ^190, the 
average being about ^5 00. 

The salaries of teachers in private schools average from ^25 to ^100, 
according to the acquirements possessed; but in private schools assistants are 
resident, and at no expense for board and lodging, which cannot be calculated at 
much less than ^50 additional. 

The same remark may be made of private governesses, whose salaries are on a 
similar scale. It may, perhaps, be doubted whether the position of a governess in 
a private family can ever be desirable; her hours of occupation are almost the 
whole of her waking hours, the discipline of her pupils must be inferior to that of 
a school, and she suffers from the fatigue of instructing one or two children who 
never feel the stimulus of competition, which, whatever may be urged against it, is 
the most natural whetstone for sharpening the wits, while her mind, perpetually in 
contact with younger minds, is apt to be dwarfed to their level, and, like the lawn 
of a suburban garden, being perpetually mowed of the little it can produce out of 
its own unassisted force, grows browner and barer, until it is voted only fit to be dug 
up and carted away to the dust-heap. 

A school, well ordered, is the proper field for the teacher; hours of study and 
recreation come in regular course; and if at the present time the drive is greater 
than a prudent educator would consider advisable, children are in their proper 
subordination, friends and equals are at hand, and the teacher never feels that she 




NURSING AND DISPENSING. 


493 


is in the position of one who is in the family but not of it; her work is definite and 
clearly laid out for her, and she is spared all the endless worry of misapprehension, 
imagined slights, and inexplicable grievances, which often ruin the health and spirits 
of the resident governess. 


NURSING AND DISPENSING. 

First among the accomplishments which endeared the lovely daughter of Isaac 
of York to her people and to her age was the knowledge which she had acquired 
from the wise Miriam of the virtue of drugs and the art of healing wounds; and 
Eleanor of Castile would only have been exercising the function of women of her 
time, if she had really sucked the poison from her husband’s wound and so saved 
his life. 

Even down to the times of our great-grandmothers, the lady of the manor 
esteemed it her duty and her privilege to inquire into and minister to the ailments of 
her tenants, and in her still-room manufactured comforting and wholesome ‘ waters ’ 
from the plants which grew on her estate for their benefit and her own. 

It js only quite in modern times that ladies have been content to be ignorant of 
the principles of health ; and when some twenty years since the idea was started that 
women should not only as wives and mothers be acquainted with the laws of health, 
but that the art of healing would be a suitable calling for women, the difficulties that 
lay in the way of their following a course of study similar to that pursued by men 
seemed insuperable. In these islands no qualifying degree but that of apothecary 
could be obtained, so that the few ladies whose resolution was fired rather than 
daunted by the difficulties which lay before them, availed themselves of the liberality 
of Switzerland, and took their degree at Zurich. 

Mrs. Garrett Anderson, who came forward as the leader of the movement in 
England, supplemented her apothecary’s degree with an M.D. obtained in Paris, 
and she has been followed by a small number of ladies who have taken advantage of 
the increasing facilities for study, and are doing good work now. 

At the present time the University of London and the King’s and Queen’s 
Colleges of Physicians in Ireland award the M.D. to women duly qualified. 

Before they can be registered as medical students, candidates must pass one of 
the examinations in arts recognised by the General Medical Council, i.e., the Oxford 
or Cambridge local examinations, junior and senior; the senior local examinations, 
for honorary certificates of the University of Edinburgh ; the local examination for 
honours certificates of the University of St. Andrew’s; the examination in arts of the 
Society of Apothecaries in London ; the examination for a first-class certificate of 
the College of Preceptors; the local examination of the Queen’s University in 
Ireland ; or the matriculation examination of the University of London. 

These certificates must include English, Latin, arithmetic, elements of algebra and 
geometry, with one optional subject, viz., Greek, French,German, or natural philosophy. 

The London School of Medicine for Women, 30, Handel Street, Brunswick 
Square, guarantees the instruction necessary for obtaining a licence in medicine. 

Four years is considered the time of study necessary to obtain a licence to 
practise from the King’s or Queen’s College of Physicians in Ireland; the expense, 
including fees, hospital practice, books and instruments, is nearly £ 200. 





494 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Five years* study is generally required to obtain the M.D. from the University of 
London, but the examinations being very difficult this degree ranks higher. No 
student is admitted to the school under the age of eighteen. There is an entrance 
scholarship, value £30, to be anfiually competed for in September. All information 
respecting the medical education of women will be furnished by Miss Heaton, the 
hon. secretary, 30, Handel Street, Brunswick Square, London. 

The medical men in England, into whose hands the health of the community 
has so long been committed, have so endeared themselves to their patients by their 
sympathetic and kindly ways, no less than by their knowledge and skill, that there 
is a strong and natural indisposition in the British public to deprive them of any 
part of their work and emoluments, so that, except in a few cases, the female M.D. 
has had considerable difficulties at the outset of her professional career. But India, 
which during the last century has exercised such a marvellous influence on the 
fortunes of the upper middle classes of Great Britain and Ireland, has lately come 
forward as a powerful assistant in opening a way for the employment of women as 
doctors. The women of India cannot and will not appeal to men for help in their 
sickness and infirmity, and they have sent a touching appeal to the Queen to send 
them out qualified women who may enter their zenanas and help and advise them. 

The opening thus presented seems likely to be used by many enterprising young 
women, who cannot look for ready employment in England, and it is hardly too 
much to hope that women so trained and qualified may not only prove a great 
blessing to the native ladies, but may improve the tone of the female portion of the 
British community in India; and that a careful study of the climate, with reference 
to the laws of health, &c., may enable them to teach their countrywomen how to 
enjoy the glories of the ‘ Golden Indies * with less cost of health and physical and 
moral energy. 

The objections which are urged to medicine as a profession for women never 
seem to be felt when they desire to become sick nurses, although the one calling is 
quite as laborious as the other, and there are few of the objections which in fairness 
would not apply to the sick nurse—the truth being that nursing has been almost 
exclusively in the hands of women, whereas the practice of medicine has become 
the occupation of a large number of educated men, who, under the designation of 
‘ general practitioners,’ lead sufficiently laborious and often very devoted lives. 
Hospital nursing affords certain employment for women of sound constitution, 
methodical habits, and cheerful temper. The salary generally commences at £20 
and rises to £30; matrons and lady superintendents receive from £50 to £100. 
Board and lodging are supplied, and are on a liberal scale. 

Almost all the London hospitals train nurses. At St. Thomas’s, the committee 
of the Nightingale Fund have made arrangements for the admission to their school of 
a limited number of gentlewomen who desire to qualify themselves in the practice 
of medicine. These probationers must pay £30 towards their maintenance during 
their year of training. Occasional vacancies occur for the admission of gentle¬ 
women free of expense, should they be in a position to require such aid. 

Probationers should be from twenty-five to thirty-seven, single or widows. 
The matron at the hospital receives all applications from candidates, who are admitted 
as probationers, subject to her selection. 

Payment will be required by two equal instalments in advance, half on 
admittance and half at the end of six months. The probationer will receive 




NURSING AND DISPENSING . 


495 


instruction from the medical instructor and the hospital sisters, and she will serve as 
assistant nurse in the hospital. During the year of training she will receive payment 
in money and clothing to the value of £16, on the following footing :—Clothing 
costing about £ 4, payment at the end of the first quarter £2, at the end of the 
second quarter £2 ioj-., at the end of the third quarter £2 10 s., at the end of the 
fourth £8, and a further gratuity of £2 if recommended for employment. 

The usual times of admission are the quarter days. Candidates must be seen 
by the matron at St. Thomas’s Hospital, Albert Embankment, Westminster Bridge, 
London, between 10 and 12 a.m. only on Tuesdays and Fridays. The regulations 
to which probationers are expected to conform may be obtained by writing to 
Bonham Carter, Esq., secretary to the Nightingale Fund, 91, Gloucester Terrace, 
Hyde Park. 

Ihe School of Nurses in connection with Westminster Hospital trains nurses in 
a similar manner. Their standard of age is between twenty-five and thirty-five, and 
they require testimonials of health and character, according to forms supplied by the 
lady superintendent, 8, Broad Sanctuary, Westminster. 

_ At both institutions probationers are expected to conform to the standing rules 
of the institution ; they are upder the direction and authority of the lady superin¬ 
tendent, and must wear the uniform of the institution. 

At Guy’s Hospital, London, S.E., pupils are taken by the matron for training. 
The terms are £1 is. per week, paid a quarter in advance; laundry expenses and 
uniform are extra. Lady pupils are expected to be implicitly obedient to either the 
sister or the nurse under whom they may be working. The hours on duty are every 
alternate day from 8 a.m. to 8.30 p.m., with two hours off duty (from 2.30 to 4.30) \ 
and from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. every alternate day. No certificate is given under a 
year’s consecutive training. If a lady pupil comes for a year, three weeks’ holiday 
can be taken at the end of six months, and leave of absence once a month (from 
Saturday afternoon to Monday morning). 

Girls who have not the physique for nursing or to whom the education 
necessary for the practice of medicine would be too costly, or the duties too onerous, 
may earn an honourable living and follow an interesting calling, if they study 
chemistry with a view to maintaining themselves by it as a business. 

By the Pharmacy Act of 1868, women were admitted to the examination, which 
legally qualifies them to practise pharmacy; and the Pharmaceutical Society admits 
women as students to the lectures at their offices, 17, Bloomsbury Square, W.C., for 
which the fee is four guineas ; but they do not admit women to their laboratory, and as 
practical knowledge of chemistry, dispensing and pharmacy is absolutely necessary, 
it would be better for a student to take the course at the South London School of 
Pharmacy, 325, Kennington Road—secretary, Mr. William Baxter—which is at 
present the only place where a woman can qualify herself to pass the examinations 
which the law requires before she can open a shop or style herself a dispensing or 
pharmaceutical chemist. The course at this school extends over a year, and the 
fees amount to about £15. 

A class for technical chemistry has also been opened by the City and Guilds of 
London Institute for the Advancement of Technical Education, at low fees, 
particulars of which may be obtained on application from Sir Philip Magnus, 
director and secretary of the Institute, Gresham College, London, E.C. Before 
admission to examination, candidates must pass a preliminary examination in 






496 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


Latin, arithmetic, and English, unless they possess a certificate of having passed the 
local examination of the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge, Durham, or Edinburgh, 
or the examination of the College of Preceptors, or any other legally-qualified body 
approved by the Council, provided Latin and arithmetic be included in the subjects. 
Candidates should be thoroughly conversant with fractions and decimals at the outset. 

At the Hospital for Women, Marylebone Road, girls are taught dispensing at a 
premium of ^5 for six months ; they should possess a slight knowledge of Latin, 
and be familiar with the medical weights and measures. 

Desirable as pharmacy is as an occupation for women, a certain difficulty lies 
in their way, owing to the fact that since 1877 it has been insisted on as an 
indispensable condition that the year’s technical training shall be supplemented by 
a three years’ practical experience in dispensing, and it is very difficult at present 
to find druggists who are willing to take girls as apprentices; but the following 
passage from the Lancet suggests the hope that this difficulty will soon pass 
away:—‘ There is nothing in the process of education or in the business of a 
pharmaceutical chemist that would be unbecoming to a woman. For purposes of 
neat compound she is a serious rival. The success of a pharmaceutical chemist 
turns largely on the way in which dispensing is conducted, and the natural 
handiness and neatness of a woman would find ample field in it. Doctors are only 
waiting till dispensing can be done at reasonable prices by chemists to hand 
over the whole of their prescriptions to them. Perhaps the introduction of women 
into the trade may hasten this desirable arrangement.’ 

The implied suggestion that the introduction of women would probably 
assist in lowering the prices of chemists—in other words, diminishing their profits 
—may perhaps neutralise the effect of this recommendation. Work should always 
have its fair price, by whomsoever it is done, and women will never take their 
proper place as workers until it ceases to be considered that their work can be had 
at a lower price, for this almost necessarily implies that their work is inferior. We 
must hope that, before long, chemists may be found who are willing to take girls 
as apprentices. If some great firm would take the initiative and admit, say, 
half-a-dozen girls at once—as was done with marked success by two great Bond 
Street hairdressers—they would be conferring a signal boon on girls, and would, 
we venture to think, be securing for themselves able and trustworthy assistants. 

It is satisfactory to know that dispensing is one of the trades approved by 
the City and Guilds of London Technical Institute, and in paying the apprentice 
fees for which they are willing to assist. Particulars can be ascertained from 
Miss Gertrude King, secretary to the Society for the Employment of Women, 
22, Berners Street, to whom all arrangements are entrusted. 


ART. 

Drawing, Painting, Wood Carving, Wood Engraving, and Decorative Art 

GENERALLY. 

Poet a nascitur , non fit , says one of the master poets of Rome, a dictum which 
may be freely rendered, ‘ No teaching will make a man a poet, unless he has the 
natural gift.’ And the same thing may be said with equal truth of the painter, of 






ART, 


497 


the musician, and of all who practise those delicate and ethereal arts which 
convey the highest pleasure, and help us, in a subtle way of their own, to realise 
that there is in us a soul which is not of the earth earthy, but which claims kindred 
with heaven, and raises us above the mists and entanglements of this troublesome 
world. There is scarcely a creature on this earth who has not some spark of the 
heavenly enthusiasm which, given in larger measure, makes the poet, the musician, 
the painter; and let us hope there are few men and women in England whose 
blood does not flow more briskly, whose step is not lighter, and whose eye does 
not kindle at a fine strain of music, or at the sight of a fine picture ; so that between 
the happy few on whom has been bestowed the blessed gift of creative genius and 
the multitudes whose lives are better and purer for their work, there is a powerful and 
energetic middle class who do not possess the genius to originate and to conceive, 
but yet who are gifted with a vein of talent, more or less generous, which would 
well repay cultivation, and which would fill the lives of those who possess it with 
healthy interests and sufficiently lucrative employment. 

Since the opening of the Royal Academy, when Sir Joshua Reynolds was 
President and Angelica Kauffman one of the honoured Forty, women have always 
been admitted as students in its schools; and many have attained considerable 
excellence, though it may not be easy to establish the fact from the experience thus 
obtained, that women really possess creative genius in as large measure and as 
frequently as man. 

The great impulse given to female education of late years, and the fact that in 
these days of male emigration women are much more frequently called on to maintain 
themselves, have had the effect of calling out whatever talent they may possess; 
and consequently we find large numbers pressing into the Art schools now common 
in London and in all the principal cities of the kingdom. 

The Royal Academy admits students whose drawings are approved by a 
committee of its members to study at its schools for a period of six years. Can¬ 
didates must send in specimens of their work, at present a figure copied from the 
antique with the utmost refinement of finish; the drawing must be sent in, with a 
printed form duly filled in, on the 28th of June or the 28th of December, to be 
submitted to the council. This form may be obtained from the Registrar of the 
Royal Academy of Arts, Burlington House, on the application of a member, 
or some artist or person of known respectability. The hours of work are from 
ten to three. Students are required to provide their own materials, but there are 
no fees. 

The National Art Training School at South Kensington, and its numerous 
dependencies, send up drawings, but the competition is so keen, the drawing so 
careful, and the finish so minute, that a special school has been called into existence, 
which is taught by Academy students of special merit, and which for the last eight 
years has been eminently successful in passing its candidates. This school, known 
as the St. John’s Wood Art School, is conducted by Mr. Calderon, and is in the 
Elm Tree Road, St. John’s Wood. The terms are 15 guineas per annum, paid in 
advance, or 10 guineas for two terms, students not being admitted for a single term. 
Students purchase their own materials, but models are supplied. 

Any one desiring to become a student at the Royal Academy will do well to 
study at this school. 

There are 164 Schools of Art in the United Kingdom. The National Art 

2 K 




498 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


Training School at South Kensington, with its ten affiliated metropolitan schools, 1 
provides instruction in Art at moderate cost. 

There is a large number of free studentships, particulars of which may be 
obtained from the secretary, Science and Art Department, S.W. 

The primary object of the course of instruction in the National Art Training 
School is ‘the systematic training of teachers in the practice of Art, and in the 
knowledge of its scientific principles, with a view to qualify them as teachers of 
Schools of Art, competent to develop the application of Art to the common uses 
of life, and to the requirements of trade and manufactures. The instruction com¬ 
prehends freehand, architectural, and mechanical drawing, practical geometry, and 
perspective; painting in oil, tempera and water colours, modelling, moulding, and 
casting objects of still life, the figure from the antique and the life, and the study of 
anatomy as applicable to Art.’ The fees for classes for five whole days, including 
evenings, are ^5 for five months, with an entrance fee of 10 s. Evening classes are 
held for women, three evenings a week, at £1 per term. 

Before being admitted to these classes, students must pass an examination in 
freehand drawing of the second grade. Examinations of candidates are held weekly 
at the beginning of each term, and frequently throughout the year at the school, on 
Tuesdays, at 10.30 a.m. and at 6.45 p.m., candidates bringing their own lead 
pencils and india-rubber. The fee is 2s. 6 d. for day students, 6 d. for evening 
students, to be paid at the time of examination. 

The annual session consists of two terms, each lasting five months, and com¬ 
mencing on the first of March and the first of October, and ending on the last day 
of July and February. 

The hours of study are from 9 a.m. to 3.30 p.m., and in the evening from 7 
to 9. 

There is an annual examination for prizes in all the Schools of Art, and a 
national competition. 

Of all the affiliated schools none, perhaps, has earned for itself a higher place 
in public estimation than the Female School of Art, 43, Queen’s Square, Blooms¬ 
bury, W.C. It has the advantage of the highest patronage, and possesses a con¬ 
siderable number of scholarships and prizes. It is very ably conducted, being 
happy in the indefatigable energy of its superintendent and secretary, Miss Gann, 
and her staff of teachers, most of whom have worked in the school since its 
commencement. 

The Slade School of Fine Art at University College, London, W.C., is largely 
attended; the studios are open from 9.30 to 5, except on Saturdays, when the 
schools are closed at 2. 

On entering the schools, students will be required to draw from the antique until 
judged sufficiently advanced to draw from the life. The college provides seats and 

1 1. Female School of Art, 43, Queen’s Square, Bloomsbury; 2. City and Spitalfields 
School of Art, New Bishopsgate Ward Schools ; 3. St. Thomas’s School of Art, Charter- 
house, Goswell Road; 4. St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields School of Art, Castle Street, Long 
Acre ; 5. Lambeth School of Art, Miller’s Lane, Upper Kennington Lane ; 6. West 
London School of Art, 204, Great Portland Street; 7. North London School of Art, 
Sandringham Road, Kingsland ; 8. Islington School of Art, 22, Cross Street; 9. Strat¬ 
ford School of Art, Maryland Point; 10. Westminster School of Art, Royal Architectural 
Museum. 




ART. 


499 


easels, but the students must furnish themselves with all the materials and with the 
other appliances that they may require. 

A refreshment-room and other accommodation, as well as a female attendant, 
are provided for the exclusive use of women. 

The fees for the session are ^19 19-f.; for a term, ^7 7 s. 

Application for admission should be made either before or as soon as possible 
after the beginning of each term. The fee must be paid within two days from the 
commencement of each term. 

Wood-carving, a beautiful and elegant art, of the highest value for decorative 
purposes, is now being developed at the City and Guilds of London Technical 
Institute, Exhibition Road, South Kensington, in day and evening classes. 

There are twelve free studentships, six for day and six for evening classes, 
granted by the City and Guilds of London Institute for the Advancement of 
Technical Education, which are assigned by the committee ‘ to persons of the 
industrial class who intend to earn their living by wood-carving.’ 

The classes are held by day and in the evening. The day classes work from 
10 till 5 on five days of the week, from 10 to 1 on Saturday; the evening classes 
work from 7 to 9 on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. The fees for day 
students are £2 a month, or ^5 a quarter. All students are required to provide 
their own tools. Students paying their own fees may take away work executed by 
themselves, on their own materials; but the work done in the school by free 
students, and all work provided by the school, remains the property of the school. 

Applications for the free studentships must be made to the hon. secretary at the 
school. Candidates must have passed the second grade Art examination of the 
Science and Art Department, in freehand drawing at least. Those will be preferred 
who have some knowledge of wood-carving, or who have obtained the second grade 
Art certificate in the other subjects, or in drawing from the antique and the figure, 
or from architecture, in designing or in modelling. 

When we visited the school, we saw the girls at work at the lower end of the 
long room devoted to the school; they seemed bright and much interested in their 
work, and the lady superintendent showed us some candlesticks and other articles 
which had just been completed, the workmanship of which seemed to us firm and 
spirited. The work on which they are employed consists of scrolls, candlesticks, 
book-slides, boxes, music cases, &c. When we were there a very elegant pianoforte 
case just finished was on view, but we cannot affirm that it was the work of the 
girls. 

Students who have been in the school not less than twelve months may, on the 
recommendation of the instructor, receive such payment for their work as the 
committee may determine; but it must not be supposed that facility in this art can 
be acquired without steady and persistent practice. Three years’ study is requisite 
for its acquisition, even with the utmost industry and natural taste, but at the end 
of the first year a clever student may earn from 10s. to 12 s. a week, while the skilled 
carver would probably earn from £2 to ^3 a week. 

Upholsterers and picture-framers give regular employment to wood-carvers, and 
much elegant fancy work may be done in the shape of small articles, such as blotting 
books, paper knives, and other articles suitable for presents. 

Wood-carving is a genuine branch of Art, and those who practise it with 
originality and power must always rank as genuine artists. 


2 k 2 





5oo 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


The large demand for woodcuts as illustrations for books, magazines, and news¬ 
papers, and the inferior style of work at present admitted, suggested to the committee 
of the City and Guilds of London Technical Institute the advisability of giving girls 
an opportunity of acquiring the art of engraving or cutting on wood, and accordingly 
they opened a studio in November, 1879, at the South London Technical Art 
School, 122 and 124, Kennington Park Road, S.E., which they placed under the 
charge of Mr. C. Roberts, who has his offices in Chancery Lane, and who, besides 
being a skilled artist, is a very able teacher, and heartily interested in his work. 
The studio is open daily from 10 till 4 (except on Saturday), and there is an 
evening class from 6 to 8 on Tuesday and Friday. The fees are £$ a year, payable 
half-yearly in advance. No one can be admitted as a student for a shorter period 
than a year; and those who are admitted are expected to attend regularly, aud to 
apply themselves steadily to the work. 

All members of the class must have taken a second grade certificate of the 
Science and Art Department at South Kensington, or must be prepared to do so. 
There are four scholarships, each consisting of a free studentship for one year, 
which are awarded after the first year’s practice, and which may be renewed in the 
following year on proof of industry and progress, and on the recommendation of 
Mr. Roberts. 

This art requires much practice, and a long apprenticeship is essential to enable 
any one to acquire a thorough knowledge of it. At the end of four years a student 
may probably earn about £1 a week, but she cannot hope to be a skilled engraver 
under five years; she may then earn from 30 s. to ^5 a week and upwards, according 
to her skill and ability. 

With a view to facilitate their obtaining remunerative employment, the Society 
for the Employment of Women assisted Mr. Roberts to establish a work-room at 
his own offices in Lonsdale Chambers, Chancery Lane, to which he drafts off 
students from the Kennington studio as they become able to execute work fit for 
publication, and employs them under his own supervision, paying them according 
to their work. 

A private class for wood-engraving is held on Monday and Thursday, from 2 to 
3 o’clock, at No. 3, East Temple Chambers, Whitefriars Street, by Mr. Paterson, 
for upwards of fourteen years a very successful teacher in London and Edinburgh ; 
the terms are £2 2s. per quarter for engraving, £2 2s. for drawing on wood, or 
both inclusive, £$ 3^. The cost of tools is about £1 is ., and blocks about 7 s. 6 d. 
a quarter. 

t Some of Mr. Paterson’s pupils are now earning good incomes, wood-engraving 
being of all Art callings perhaps the most certainly remunerative, and an occupation 
in every respect thoroughly suitable to the nice observation and delicate handling 
of women. 

It is a pretty sight to see the girl wood-engravers sitting at their little circular 
tables, generally three at each, close to the window, or, in the evening round large 
shaded lamps, each intent on her own little block, and handling her tiny tool with 
manifest pleasure. It is an art which doubtless requires certain special qualifications, 
but they are qualifications which girls most frequently possess. Those who can 
draw as well as engrave have a great advantage. 

China-painting is an elegant art, which girls who have a good knowledge of 
drawing can acquire in a few lessons, a fact which will probably explain why it has 



ART. 


501 


been considerably overdone. Girls who have had a regular training for two years 
at a good School of Art may still earn something considerable. Messrs. Howell 
and James, Regent Street, hold classes for pottery-painting every day except 
Saturday; the fee is £3 3s. for ten lessons of two hours each, £2 2s. for six, and 
£1 is. for three lessons. They hold an annual exhibition of china-painting, to 
which each exhibitor may send two large or three small works; and it is en¬ 
couraging to know that the ladies’ work sold at this exhibition in one season realised 
^2000. 

A class for teaching china-painting has been established by the City and Guilds 
of London Institute at the Lambeth School of Art, Miller’s Lane, Upper Kennington 
Lane, S.E. 

The fee is ioj'. 6d. per month, and students supply themselves with all necessary 
materials, and also pay for the firing of the finished work. 

The course consists of instruction in the manipulation of simple colours, and 
afterwards of those that require greater skill for their successful use. Landscape, 
figure, and decoration by natural flowers, ornamentally arranged, are the subjects 
principally taught. 

For further particulars and forms of admission, application must be made at the 
South London Technical Art School, 122, Kennington Road, or at 22, Berners 
Street, Oxford Street, or at the central office of the City and Guilds of London 
Institute, Gresham College, London, E.C. 

Ladies are permanently employed at the works of Messrs. Doulton and Co., 
Lambeth; and there is a class for pottery-painting held on Tuesday and Friday at 
the Lambeth School of Art, Miller’s Lane, Upper Kennington Lane, the fee for 
which is 10s. 6d. per month. 

A few ladies work at painting on glass at the Whitefriars Glass Works, White- 
friars Street, E.C., where they have a work-room to themselves, and work for six 
hours a day for five days, and four hours on Saturday. Other houses also employ 
women. 

A good knowledge of drawing is of great advantage, but the technicalities of the 
art can be acquired in three months’ study; the average earnings of an ordinary 
worker are from £30 to ^70 per annum; those who can copy figures on glass may 
earn from £90 to £100. 

As painted glass is now so much used for the decoration of private houses as 
well as of public buildings, it seems a pity that it should not afford employment to 
more women, as the mechanical part clearly comes within the scope of ordinary 
abilities, while the work itself is elegant and light. 

Decorative art in all its branches, designing, tile-painting, panel-painting, &c., 
is taught by Miss Collingridge, at her studio, 56, Welbeck Street, W. ; and her 
pupils have generally been very successful in obtaining remunerative employment. 

Very delicate and beautiful work is done at the Ladies’ Tracing Office, 8, Great 
Queen Street, Westminster, under the superintendence of Miss Jessie Long. This 
office was established through the agency of the Society for the Employment of 
Women, and has been eminently successful. It takes three months to learn the 
art; after that time girls can earn at the rate of 3d. per hour, rising to 6d., and they 
work seven hours a day. Neatness and accuracy are the principal qualifications 
required for a plan-tracer. All inquiries respecting this office should be addressed 
to Miss King, secretary for the Society for the Employment of Women. 




502 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Photography can now hardly be recommended, or take rank among the Art 
callings. A considerable number of women are indeed employed in ‘ spotting' 
photographs, whose wages begin at 6i‘. a week, and rise to 15^. or the hours 
being from 9 to 6. Mounting photographs on cards, which requires much neatness 
and accuracy, also gives employment to many, and they earn from £1 to £1 5-r. a 
week; but the most skilled and best-paid branch of the art open to them is re¬ 
touching negatives, which requires both skill and judgment; women so employed 
earn from 30^. to £3 a week. 

Besides the classes for wood-engraving and china-painting, the City and Guilds 
of London Institute has opened classes for modelling and design. That for design 
meets on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings, from 6 to 8, and the fee is 
2 s. 6 d. per month, payable in advance. 

Instruction is given by lecture and practice (1) in drawing flowers, foliage, and 
natural forms; (2) the arrangement of these studies in elementary designs; (3) 
advanced design, and the carrying out of finished works. 

The course is adapted to students engaged in the practice of ornamental art, 
such as lithographers, engravers, house decorators, designers for textile fabrics, 
pottery, &c. 

Pupils in the art of house decoration are received by Miss Agnes Garrett, 
2, Gower Street, London. They have to serve an apprenticeship and pay a 
premium—the apprentice binds herself for three years, a shorter period not being 
considered sufficient. House decoration includes cabinet-making, designing of 
household furniture, and upholstery. A girl who has served her apprenticeship 
ought to be able to start in business for herself, if she has sufficient capital. Two 
friends starting in partnership would be much more likely to succeed than a lady 
alone. 

Art needlework, which is very much used for the decoration of churches and of 
the houses of the wealthier classes, can be best studied at the Royal School of Art 
Needlework, in the Exhibition Road, South Kensington. Applicants for admission 
must apply in person to the manager, and furnish two references of respectability; 
they must be gentlewomen by birth and education, and must be abl$ and willing to 
devote seven hours a day to work at the school. 

Every applicant is required to go through a course of instruction, for which ^5 
is charged. 

The course of instruction consists of nine lessons in Art needlework, of five 
hours each. If after two lessons the teacher is of opinion that the applicant is not 
likely to succeed as a needleworker, she will be recommended to retire, and her ^5 
will be returned to her. 

The work is paid by the piece, but the average earnings are from £1 to £1 10s. 
a week. About twelve ladies are employed by the school, and there are a consider¬ 
able number of candidates when a vacancy occurs. The work is easy and attractive, 
giving much scope for taste in design and choice of colour. 

Besides these recognised artistic employments, for engaging in which special 
facilities are offered to women, there are many in which they may earn, if not a 
living, at least a handsome addition to a narrow income, and which may be followed 
at home; such as painting on fans, on silk or velvet, and the designing of Easter, 
Christmas, and birthday cards. In these, elegance of design and neatness of 
execution will not fail to win their way, though, as Royal Academicians have lately 



MUSIC. 


503 

condescended to employ their leisure hours in such small matters, the field is not 
so free as it was to the female debutante. 

As work of this character has the advantage of being done at home, it neces¬ 
sarily has the corresponding disadvantage of uncertain sale, and requires much 
personal labour and enterprise to ensure it. 

Girls must not expect to meet with benevolent Brothers Cheeryble, who will 
send interesting young gentlemen to buy up their work; but the demand for these 
pretty extravagances is so enormous that no girl who has fancy, and a certain 
amount of skill, need despair of having her work appreciated and purchased. 


MUSIC. 

That branch of Art which has usurped the name of music—a name properly 
belonging to all the fine arts—is in our minds so associated with ideas of rest and 
pleasure, of tenderness and enjoyment, that it seems hard, at first sight, to include 
it in a chapter written upon work; and yet, perhaps, no one of the higher arts 
demands a more thorough devotion, a more earnest study. There is no age so 
distant, no people so barbarous, but has had some touch of melody, some instrument, 
however rude, which helped the soul to rise as on wings out of the hard struggle of 
daily life to something higher and more enduring. 

Girls, like birds, have a natural disposition to 1 warble their native woodnotes 
wild/ and life is brighter and happier for their singing ; but if they desire to proceed 
further, to make it the delight and ornament of their lives, the means by which those 
lives shall be maintained, they will do well to disabuse their minds of the idea that 
the aTt to which they have devoted themselves is easy, or one to be excelled in 
without much and steady work. 

And first of all, let no one undertake to study music with a view to make it a 
profession unless she possesses a strong love for it, a fine ear, and feeling. Nothing 
but labour to herself and weariness to her friends, let her be assured, can come of 
such work undertaken invitci Minervd, — i.e., without the natural gift. 

Lt would seem, indeed, that if a little more of the science of music could be 
taught and a little less of mechanical proficiency insisted on, music might be made 
as valuable a factor in education as higher mathematics; but while every student is 
expected to be able to perform on so complex an instrument as a pianoforte, it 
seems to be accepted as a necessity to enforce a hard and early drill, without which 
the requisite manual facility can never be acquired. 

It has long been felt that an art so universally popular, so pre-eminently 
humanising, deserves the best study, the most systematic training, and in 1822 the 
Royal Academy of Music was instituted in Tenterden Street, Hanover Square, with 
a view to supply what was acknowledged to be a great public want. The universities, 
it is true, had granted degrees in music, as in other ‘ liberal ’ arts, but to obtain 
these, residence in college was necessary, as well as a certain proficiency in literary 
subjects, and, besides, at that time no university granted degrees to women. So 
the Royal Academy of Music has, from the first, been fostered by the patronage of 
the Royal family, and many of the most eminent living musicians in England are 
counted among its directors and committee. 




S °4 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


All branches of music are taught at the Academy, and students are permitted to 
choose one subject for particular study; but all students are required to learn 
harmony and the pianoforte, and all are required to attend the sight-singing class, 
and, when competent, to take part in the orchestra, the choral practices, and in all 
public performances. 

Students are admitted at the commencement of each term or half-term. Candi¬ 
dates for admission must attend for examination, bringing music they can perform 
at eleven o’clock on the Saturday before the commencement of each term or half- 
term, with a recommendation from a subscriber, member, associate, or honorary 
member. 

The fee for examination is one guinea, which is returned if the candidate is 
admitted. 

For the convenience of candidates who reside at a distance from London, ‘ local 
representatives ’ have been appointed in most of the great towns, who examine 
candidates and advise them as to the probability of their acceptance, and assist them 
with other information, and who undertake the business arrangements of the local 
examinations. 

The year is divided into three terms—Lent term, of twelve and a half weeks; 
the Easter and Michaelmas terms of thirteen weeks each. The entrance fee is five 
guineas; the annual fee for the entire course is thirty guineas, all fees payable in 
advance, and notice of withdrawal being required. 

The course of instruction includes two weekly lessons in a principal study—one 
in harmony, one in a second study, when deemed desirable; one in elocution for 
singers, with the advantage of attending the sight-singing class, the violin quartet 
class, and the orchestral and choral practices. 

The operatic class for the study of the lyrical drama is open to composers, 
singers, and accompanists. Students already in the Academy are admitted on 
payment of an additional fee of two guineas a term each. 

Students are required to pay implicit obedience to all persons placed in authority 
over them, and to attend punctually at the hours appointed for their instruction, and 
at all orchestral and choral practices and rehearsals, if they be members of the band 
or choir, and at all public performances. On leaving the Academy students may 
undergo an examination, and, if it prove satisfactory, will receive a certificate, and 
in special cases the additional distinction of being made an associate of the 
institution. 

There are eight scholarships open to girls :—i. The Westmoreland, value ^io, 
to be appropriated towards the cost of a year’s instruction in the Academy, open to 
girls between the ages of 18 and 24, and to be contended for annually. 2. The 
Potter Exhibition, value ^12, open to competition for male and female candidates 
in alternate years, who have studied not less than two years in the Academy. 3. The 
Parepa-Rosa Scholarship, awarded by competition to British-born female vocalists, 
not being or ever having been students at the Royal Academy of Music, between 
the ages of 18 and 22. It entitles the successful candidate to two years’ free 
musical education in the Royal Academy of Music. Competition every two years, 
in April. _ 4. The Thalberg Scholarship, value ^20, is open alternately to male and 
female pianists between 14 and 21 every two years. Competitors must pass a 
preliminary examination in orthography, English grammar, elementary arithmetic, 
rudiments of geography, and English history. Candidates above 18, in any foreign 




MUSIC. 


505 


language at their own choice. 5. The John Thomas Welsh Scholarship, open to 
vocalists and instrumentalists of Welsh parentage, every three years, entitles the 
holder to three years’ instruction in the Royal Academy of Music. 6. The Henry 
Smart Exhibition, awarded to the candidate deemed to show the greatest promise in 
composition and organ playing. 7. Lady Goldsmid’s Scholarship, giving one year’s 
free education at the Academy, open to be competed for by female pianists, who 
have been studying at the Academy not less than two years at the date of examina¬ 
tion. 8. The Hine Gift, to be competed for annually in December by pupils of 
either sex under 17, who have been studying in the Academy throughout the three 
consecutive preceding terms. It will be awarded to the student who may be judged 
to have composed the best English ballad, the poetry for which shall have been 
selected by the committee, and announced two months before the competition. 
Value £12, 

Besides these scholarships, there are prizes in money and medals, most of which 
are open to women, and which, bearing the names of well-known English musicians 
and vocalists, testify pleasantly to their interest in their art. 

Applications for admission must be made to John Gill, Esq., secretary of the 
Academy, Tenterden Street, Hanover Square, from whom all particulars may be 
obtained. 

Within half-a-mile of the Royal Academy, at 13, Mandeville Street, Manchester 
Square, is Trinity College, instituted in 1872 for the purpose of advancing musical 
and general education. The classes here include all subjects connected with the 
science and art of music. 

Trinity College holds examinations in all parts of the kingdom and in the 
colonies, and grants diplomas. 

The fees are lower than at the Royal Academy, being jC 6 15X. for a session of 
three terms for each subject; there are evening as well as day classes in nearly all 
subjects, and students may enter for a single subject. A registration fee of 5^. is 
charged on entering the college, which is appropriated to the special fund for a 
college library. 

Examinations are held twice a year, in January and July. 

Though Trinity College is a comparatively new school, the names of such 
musicians as Sir Julius Benedict, Sir Michael Costa, and Mr. Sims Reeves are a 
sufficient guarantee that it is an honest attempt to do good work, to make the study 
of music more thorough and scientific, and so to improve its quality. 

The Guildhall School of Music, established by the Corporation of London, 
principal H. Weist Hill, Esq., though of recent formation, has already done good 
work ; it has been established ‘ for the purpose of providing high-class instruction in 
the art and science of music at a very low cost to the student.’ 

Instruction is given daily from 8.30 a.m. till 9.30 p.m. Forms of nomination 
can be obtained from the secretary, and, when filled up, must be signed by an 
alderman or member of the Court of Common Council. 

Every one must pass the preliminary examination. An entrance fee of 5^. must 
be paid on or before the day of examination. All fees are payable in advance, and 
vary according to the subjects in which the students arrange to take lessons. 

There are classes in harmony, sight-singing, elocution, Italian, French, and 
German. The fees for private lessons vary, according to the length and frequency 
of the lesson, from jQi ioj. a term of twelve weeks to ^7 7 s. Studies in class for 



5c6 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


one hour weekly in harmony, French, German, Italian, elocution, and deportment, 
j£i is. ; in sight-singing, 5^. 

Students must implicitly obey the authorities of the school, and attend punctually 
at the hours appointed for the lesson. 

Mrs. Charles P. Smith, the lady superintendent, has charge of all the ladies 
attending the school. Upwards of ^400 is distributed annually in the form of 
exhibitions and prizes. 

The last effort for the advancement of musical education in England is the Royal 
College of Music, Kensington Gore, which is fostered by the special care of the 
Prince of Wales and the Duke of Edinburgh. It is at present conducted in the 
National Training School of Music, which has become amalgamated with it, and 
has the advantage of being in a new and fashionable locality, close to the Albert 
Hall, and equidistant from the three stations of South Kensington, Gloucester Road, 
and High Street, Kensington, on the Metropolitan and District Railways. 

It is the avowed object of the founders of the Royal College of Music to supply 
in England the place of the National Conservatoires in France, in Vienna, and in 
the principal Continental cities, which are all largely subsidised by the State, and 
which will afford free education to students who are by Nature endowed with the 
qualities which go to make the musician. 

The college is open to students of both sexes, and consists of scholars, exhi¬ 
bitioners, and students. The scholarships are of two kinds— open and close, or local. 

A scholarship entitles the holder to a thorough and systematic education in 
theoretical and practical music; scholars are entitled to select one subject as a 
principal study, but are all required to receive instruction in such additional subjects 
as may be chosen for them. 

Scholarships are tenable for three years, but may be terminated at any time by 
the council,, if they have reason to be dissatisfied with the progress or conduct of the 
scholar; while, on the other hand, in cases where it seems desirable, the period may 
be extended. 

Girl candidates for scholarships are eligible up to the following ages : composition, 
21; pianoforte, 19 ; organ, 20; harp, 19 ; violin and other stringed instruments, 18; 
singing, between 17 and 22. 

The open scholarships are open to all classes of Her Majesty’s subjects, and are 
obtainable by competitive examination only; the examination is held at the college 
after due and proper public notice. 

A certain number of the open scholarships provide not only for the musical 
education, but for the maintenance of the scholar. Preliminary examinations are 
held throughout the country with a view to select candidates whose qualifications 
give them a reasonable prospect of success in the final competition, and those only 
who may be selected at such preliminary examination are allowed to attend the final 
competition. No fee is charged for the preliminary, but the fee for examination at 
the final competition is £1 is ., which is returned to the successful scholars. 

Persons desiring to enter the college as students, or paying pupils, must pass an 
entrance examination, the fee for which is £1 is. 

The full course of instruction occup es three years, and no student is admitted 
for a shorter term than one year. The fee for a student is £40 per annum, payable 
in advance in one term, or in instalments of ^15, £15, and £10 at the beginning 
of each term. 




CLERKS , BOOK-KEEPERS , £rC. 


507 


Before entering college each scholar or exhibitioner, with a parent or guardian, or 
other responsible person, is required to sign a form binding the pupil to obey the 
rules of the college, and to remain for the entire term of scholarship or exhibition, 
except in the case of illness or other unavoidable cause. 

The other regulations are similar to those at the Royal Academy of Music and 
at Trinity College. The whole is under the direction of Sir George Grove, D.C.L., 
and Charles Morley, Esq., is the hon. secretary. 

A private effort to advance the musical education of the country is that of 
Professor Wylde, at the London Academy of Music, which has been established now 
upwards of twenty-two years. 

In this school ladies and gentlemen study in different departments. Students 
are not admitted unless they show that they possess sufficient ability to profit by the 
course of study, and are required to attend at the academy on one of the entrance 
days. The fee for three indicated studies is ^5 5^.; for half a term, £$ 3s. 
French, German, Italian, and elocution are extras, all fees payable in advance; if 
applied for 10 s. 6d. extra is charged. There are certain scholarships which give one 
year’s free instruction, or two years’ instruction for payment of half fees, for which 
only professional students are eligible to compete. 

Pianists must be under the age of 17 at the date of the first application, vocalists 
over 16 and under 20. 

Applications must be sent to the hon. secretary, C. Trew, Esq., St. George’s 
Hall, W., in the months of May and June, accompanied by a letter of recommenda¬ 
tion from a lady patroness or steward. 

Candidates must attend preliminary examinations, and only those approved can 
compete for the scholarships. Forms of application can be had at St. George’s 
Hall, price 6d. 

Medals are also awarded in three degrees of merit—bronze, silver, and gold. 
Students of one year can compete for bronze medals, bronze medallists for silver 
medals, and silver medallists for gold medals. 

Other private classes may be and often are very useful, and in its early stages, or 
when the art is only to be pursued for amateur purposes, music, both instrumental 
and vocal, may be better studied under private teachers; but girls who desire to 
make it a profession should by all means associate themselves with one or other of 
the public bodies which guarantee them methodical and thorough training. 

In conclusion, we would earnestly warn all young women who desire to become 
professional musicians, to trust to no private speculator who offers exceptional 
advantages for nominal fees, by whatever lofty name he may dignify his undertaking. 


CLERKS, BOOK-KEEPERS, &c. 

Clerical work, being in its nature quiet and sedentary, is very suitable to young 
women; indeed, they do it with so much satisfaction to themselves and to their 
employers that a tradesman who has once had the services of a thoroughly 
efficient female book-keeper, not only desires to retain her, or, if she marries or 
for other family reasons has to leave, to replace her by another girl, but recom¬ 
mends his friend to employ a female book-keeper, assuring him that she will be 





508 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


found as efficient and more generally satisfactory than the young man he can get 
for the same salary. 

For a book-keeper, accountant, or commercial clerk the most important 
qualifications are trustworthiness, punctuality, and steady discharge of duty, with 
a quiet and self-possessed deportment. Her handwriting must be firm and legible, 
her figures well made and unmistakable. The value and importance of a good 
hand can scarcely be overrated; clerks almost invariably have to make application 
for a situation by letter, and the girl who writes the best letter is pretty sure to be 
selected—a carelessly written or ill-expressed letter being almost certainly fatal. 

A clerk must be able to say what she has to say concisely and clearly: she 
should therefore be well practised in English composition, and accustomed to 
think clearly and accurately. It is a decided advantage to a clerk or book-keeper 
to be versed in the art of stenography, for employers not unfrequently prefer to 
dictate their letters, which the clerk takes down in shorthand, and copies out at 
leisure. 

A knowledge of French and German is also a great advantage, as in many 
trades there is a large foreign correspondence. It will be seen from these 
observations that the subjects commonly taught in schools are precisely those 
which are most essential to the clerk or book-keeper—good arithmetic, grammatical 
study of language, and careful and accurate expression. In some of the middle 
class schools the technicalities of book-keeping are taught, and in all particular 
attention is given to arithmetic and English composition. It follows, then, that a 
girl who has successfully passed the Oxford or Cambridge local examination, or the 
third class College of Preceptors, is in a position to get up the technicalities of her 
calling without difficulty. There are excellent book-keeping classes in London at 
the Colleges for Working Women, 29, Queen Square, Bloomsbury, and 7, Fitzroy 
Street, Fitzroy Square; at the Birkbeck Institute, and in various other places; 
while the Society for the Employment of Women, 22, Berners Street, has for more 
than twenty-five years given a thorough and systematic training in book-keeping in 
all its branches to girls who desire to seek employment as clerks or book-keepers, 
and when they have passed a satisfactory examination, the society does its best to 
find them suitable situations. 

Trained women are, as a rule, quick workers, and the salaries of those who are 
skilled in office-work average from twenty shillings to thirty shillings a week. The 
hours indeed are long, but as the occupation is sedentary, they are able to bear 
them without excessive fatigue. 

The period necessary for the special study of book-keeping is from four to six 
months; and it is very desirable that the student should join a class, private study 
from a book seldom being so effectual. The learner should make her books, the 
items being dictated by the teacher, as they would occur in a house of business, and 
arranged by the student under their respective heads—an exercise of great value, as 
it familiarises her with the principles and minutiae of trade, and she can hardly 
attain skill in this exercise if she be teaching herself from a book. A certificate 
from a well-known authority is of immense advantage to a book-keeper when she is 
first seeking employment. Our witty neighbours’ mot , Co n!est que le premier pas 
qui coute, is never truer of anything than of the book-keeper’s start in life; a good 
introduction generally securing her steady and fairly remunerated employment for 
the rest of her business life. 




CLERKS , BOOK-KEEPERS , ETC. 


509 


Shorthand is taught at the School of Stenography, Lonsdale Chambers, 
Chancery Lane. Pitman’s manuals, which can be procured of any bookseller, are 
very clearly drawn up, and it is not at all impossible for a student to acquire the 
art by herself; but her progress will be much more rapid if she can join a class, as 
the teacher will naturally explain difficulties as they occur, and will dictate distinctly 
at a steady rate a certain number of words a minute. 

There is at present but little opportunity in England of acquiring a knowledge 
of the commercial technicalities of French and German; there is indeed a good 
class at the Birkbeck Institute, and as the attention of the City and Guilds of 
London Technical Institute has been called to this matter, there is reason to hope 
that before long classes will be opened at Gresham College for the study of these 
languages for the purposes of commerce. 

Girls become book-keepers at eighteen or nineteen years of age, and a young 
book-keeper earns about 15^. a week, without board and lodging. When she 
has gained experience her salary will rise to ; while if she can undertake 
correspondence she will earn from 30^. to 40^. a week all the year round. 

It is more than fifteen years since Government opened certain branches of its 
postal clerical work to women, and Government work has the advantage of being 
permanent, clerkships being retained till the girl marries or is superannuated. 
Government clerkships in the departments open to women are obtained as in the 
other departments—by competitive examination, and are open to girls between 
eighteen and twenty years of age. As the salaries are good and the hours short, the 
competition is very keen. To have any chance of success the candidate must be 
well acquainted with English history, geography, and arithmetic, and must under¬ 
stand the principles of English composition, she must, as a sine qud, non , write a 
good hand, and be able to express herself in good writing. If she is weak in either 
of these matters she will be unable to pass the preliminary examination, and no 
knowledge of higher subjects will avail her. 

All Government clerks undergo a year’s probation, and if found unequal to the 
work by the end of that time they will be dismissed. Cases of such dismissal do 
occur, though happily seldom; and it becomes a candidate who is accepted to be 
very careful. Girls sometimes think that if they once get into an office they are 
provided for; and so they are if their performance of work be equal to their 
promise; but it is only just to the public, whose servants they are, that the 
character and efficiency of their work should be maintained. 

Government examinations are held twice a year, and the dates are advertised 
in the daily papers, no other notice of them being given. Girls are admitted 
to the competitive examination for the situation of female telegraph learner in 
the General Post Office, London, between the ages of fourteen and eighteen; the 
subjects of examination are—writing from dictation, handwriting, and easy sums 
in the first four rules of arithmetic. Candidates who are successful must attend the 
Post Office Telegraph School to undergo a course of instruction in telegraphy; 
for this course there is no charge, but while they are in the school they receive 
no pay. 

The course of instruction extends over three months; but should it appear that 
the candidate has no aptitude for the duties of a telegraph clerk after a month’s 
trial, or even later on, her nomination will be cancelled. The scale of pay is 
ioj*. a week, when they are certified from the school, rising to 12s. when they are 


1 




5io 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


certified to be fully capable of transmitting public messages, and rising to 14^ 
if they are certified to be capable of taking charge of a telegraphic instrument, 
increasing at the rate of is. a week up to 17^., and thence at the rate of is. 61 . up 
to 27 s., promotion depending on merit. 

Girls between the ages of fifteen and eighteen are eligible as sorters; they are 
chosen by open competitive examination, provided they are duly qualified in 
respect of health and character. (Candidates must not be less than four feet 
ten inches high without their boots.) 

They are examined in (1) reading and copying manuscript, (2) handwriting, 
(3) spelling, (4) arithmetic—the first four rules, simple and compound—and the 
geography of the United Kingdom. The wages of sorters begin at 12^. a week, 
and increase by a shilling a week up to 2 oj-. ; promotion depends on merit. 

Girls between eighteen and twenty years of age are eligible for the situations of 
female clerks in the Receiver and Accountant-General's office, and in the Savings 
Bank department of the General Post Office in London. The subjects of exami¬ 
nation are—arithmetic, English composition, with special reference to grammatical 
accuracy, geography, and English history. Before candidates can enter for this 
there is a preliminary examination in handwriting, spelling, arithmetic, including 
vulgar and decimal fractions. The salaries of savings bank clerks commence at 
^65 per annum, and increase by per annum up to £80. 

Post Office clerks must be unmarried or widows: they are required to resign 
their appointments on marriage. 

Besides the above there are various kinds of clerical work which girls can do> 
perfectly well, such as addressing circulars, copying MSS. and music. A good deal 
may be made by this kind of work, but the supply is necessarily uncertain, and it is 
chiefly valuable to fill up time between the intervals of regular engagements. A 
great deal of such work is done at the Society for the Employment of Women, 
22, Berners Street, which has earned a first-class character for such work. 

Girls are occasionally employed as secretaries, and for a bright, intelligent girl 
no more desirable occupation can be suggested than to be the secretary to a 
high-class scientist or author. The lady who was secretary to Sir Charles Lyell has 
won for herself a place in the scientific world which is justly admirable. Many 
societies also have female secretaries, those specially which are concerned in the 
interests of women and of households, as the Ladies’ Sanitary and the Health, but 
the salaries of secretaries are not equal to those given to men who do the same work; 
and to be an able secretary a woman must have special capabilities, unwearied 
devotion to her work, and unflagging perseverance. 

Printing, which is in many of its details an employment thoroughly suitable to 
women, seems to find its proper place in connection with clerical work, though it 
is purely a mechanical calling. Many firms now employ girls as compositors; the 
apprenticeship is for three or four years, the premium ^5, which, however, is not 
always required. A printer can earn from ■£1 to 25s. a week; if she becomes a proof- * 
reader more, according to her knowledge and skill. This trade has been worked 
with much public sympathy by Miss Emily Faithfull; and the Society for the 
Employment of Women, which has been indefatigable in its efforts to promote the 
objects for which it was founded, and to raise the moral and physical status of 
women wherever it seems feasible, accepts printing as an occupation in all respects 
suitable to women. 




_ MIS CELLANEOUS CALLINGS. 51T 

There is a printing office entirely managed by women at 21B, College Street, 
Westminster, where apprentices are taken. The apprenticeships are for three years, 
and the premium ^5, but after the first three months apprentices receive wages at 
the rate of 2 s. 6d. per week, which rises to iox. at the end of the three years; after 
that time the average earnings are from ^1 to ^1 jx. a week. The hours of work 
are from 9 to 6.30, with an hour’s interval for dinner. 

An account of the clerical occupations suitable to girls would hardly be 
complete without a brief notice of the remarkable success which has attended a 
private venture. It is now several years since Messrs. Kelly & Co., of 51, Great 
Queen Street, Lincoln’s Inn, began to employ girls to assist in compiling their 
Post-Office directories; and owing to the admirable management of Mr. Kelly 
himself, and of the lady to whom the superintendence of the girls has been 
entrusted, the experiment has been from the beginning an undoubted success. 
Girls are admitted from the age of fourteen, their one qualification being that they 
can read, and that they write a firm and legible hand. The wages begin at 8 s. 
a week. The hours are from half-past nine until half-past five, except on Saturdays, 
when they leave off working at three o’clock. An hour is allowed for dinner, which 
is eaten on the premises, a cooking apparatus being provided for those who like to 
use it. 

The cutting and sorting of coupons affords occupation to a considerable number 
of ladies, who can earn from 15^. to £1 or 2$s. Messrs. Rothschild, St. Swithin’s 
Lane, and Messrs. Baring, Bishopsgate Street Within, give employment to a 
considerable number of ladies in this occupation. 

Type-writing is an art which is already largely practised by women. Mrs, 
Marshal], who opened an office in London in 1884, has pupils established in 
Edinburgh, Oxford, Liverpool, and Cambridge, all doing well. Her clerks work at 
a speed varying from fifty to sixty words a minute. It is essential that the operator 
should be well educated and intelligent. Mrs. Marshall’s address is 126, Strand. 


MISCELLANEOUS CALLINGS AND A FEW STATISTICS. 

Having now enumerated the principal callings open to girls who desire to live 
intellectual lives, we may, in conclusion, say a few words of other very honourable 
and necessary callings, which, perhaps, should have had an earlier place in our 
catalogue. 

The selection and preparation of food is a duty of paramount importance to the 
health and prosperity of the family, and no house-mother can properly fulfil her 
function of provider who does not give much and daily consideration to the food 
supply of the household; this is now so generally acknowledged that a course of 
lessons in cookery is considered of as much importance to a girl who is ‘ finishing’ 
her education as riding lessons or calisthenics. 

At the National Training School for Cookery, in Exhibition Road, South 
Kensington, a full course of twenty weeks is given in the practice and teaching of 
cookery ; the fee for the course is £ 20. Teachers of plain cookery can pass through 
a course of ten weeks for a fee of £8 8s. 







512 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


The conditions of admission are as follows : (a) The student agrees to obey all 
the rules of the school laid down by the executive committee, (b) For any infraction 
of the rules the student may be discharged at a day’s notice without having a claim 
of any kind on the school, (c) If after training the student proves competent (and 
of this the committee are sole judges), and her services be required, she will be 
prepared to accept an engagement on the staff of the school at a salary ranging 
from £1 to £2 weekly; but it is to be clearly understood that the committee are 
not responsible for finding any paid employment for the student, while in the school 
or afterwards. 

Students in training are expected to attend evening classes held by staff-teachers 
once a week. A student in training for a teacher first passes as a pupil through the 
scullery and demonstration classes, which occupies one month, working from 10 a.m. 
to 4 p.m., with an interval of from 12 to 2 for luncheon. At the end of that 
month her note-books are examined and corrected; she then spends one month in 
the plain cookery practice kitchen, and a fortnight in teaching what she has 
learnt. 

During the course of training the student may dine with the other pupils at the 
cost of one shilling, or she may purchase at a nominal charge any little dish that has 
been cooked. Staff-teachers receive £2 a week all the year round, and their dinner; 
if they are sent to live out of London, they receive a further sum of thirty shillings a 
week for board and lodging, with all their travelling expenses. 

The School Board employs a considerable number of teachers of cookery, paying 
them at the rate of £60 a year, and courses of demonstration lessons at the Quebec 
Institute, 18, Baker Street, W., and other similar societies, are well attended and 
remunerative. 

For really clever visiting cooks there is ample employment. We know two 
excellent middle-aged women who earn more than a livelihood by cooking dinners 
or suppers for people ‘ on hospitable thoughts intent,’ who do not venture to commit 
themselves to the tender mercies of the confectioner, and who are thus enabled to 
furnish their boards with food solid and light, pleasant to the taste and grateful to 
the eye; and in such request are these economical and skilled cooks, that the first 
point to be ascertained when a festival is in contemplation is on what day the cook 
will be able to render her services. But while persons with special faculties for 
cooking must always be held in high esteem, it would surely be a great gain to the 
family life of England if a general knowledge of the art of selecting and preparing 
food were considered an essential part of a woman’s education, be she gentle or 
simple; such a knowledge would render impossible the tyranny of the extravagant, 
uncleanly ‘ cook,’ who often rules supreme in the basement, and is regarded with 
anxiety and alarm by her so-called mistress. 

Dressmaking and upholstery are also arts which should be familiar to house- 
mistresses, and which, as occupations, may profitably occupy the attention of young 
women. The dress of women has, indeed, in late years become so complex that the 
draping of the female figure has grown almost as difficult as the costuming of men, 
and the sewing-machine, far from simplifying work, as it was supposed it would do, 
has introduced an elaboration of ornament which would have made our mothers open 
their eyes and shake their heads in dismay. Dressmaking is consequently now much 
executed in detail, and instead of dressmakers, we have skirt hands, bodice hands, 
&c., who by necessity work in connection with each other, and principally in 




MISCELLANEOUS CALLINGS . 


513 


the establishments of drapers, who find it to their advantage to manufacture the 
* costume ’ of which they supply the numerous materials. 

A large number of young women are employed in the manufacture of dresses as 
well as in the sale of dress materials; these, who are called the ‘ young ladies ’ of the 
establishment, are frequently the daughters of clerks, farmers, or even of professional 
men, who prefer to maintain themselves by such work to becoming governesses; 
and, if the calling be lower from a moral and intellectual point of view, the wear to 
the spirits is certainly less, the responsibility not so heavy, and the periods of leisure 
more definite and more to be relied on. 

The ‘ young ladies ’ resident in the houses of the higher firms, such as Messrs. 
Howell and James, Regent Street, Messrs. Lewis and Allenby, &c., are thoroughly 
well cared for, the salaries varying, according to capability, from ^20 to £200 a 
year. The hours of opening business in the higher class houses vary from 8 to 
10 a.m. In large cheap business houses, such as that of Messrs. Spencer and 
Boldero, Lisson Grove, and Messrs. Venables, High Street, Whitechapel, the hours 
are longer, but the assistants are equally well cared for. 

Some houses receive apprentices. At Messrs. Howell and James’s apprenticeship 
is for three years. The apprentice pays a premium of ^40, but she resides in 
the house. Cheaper shops require little or no premium. 

There is at present a great dearth of visiting dressmakers—a very respectable and 
useful class of young women. A girl who understands her business, is modest, and 
of an obliging disposition, is a most welcome help to the overtasked house-mother, 
and she may earn for herself a very good living, but to undertake this work she must 
be trained to dressmaking in all its branches. Unfortunately in the great houses a 
girl at the end of her apprenticeship does not turn out a skilled dressmaker; all the 
time has been spent in making her perfect in one part only, so that at the end of her 
time she is only a skirt hand, or a bodice hand, and thus her mind is dwarfed, and 
rapid and skilled fingers, obeying the motion of another mind, are all that result, 
instead of an artist, knowing her work in every detail, able to devise and to execute. 
A visiting dressmaker receives from 2 s. to 2 s. 6d. a day, and her principal meals are 
provided for her. 

Technical cutting out and dressmaking is now taught in class, and rules given for 
taking measurements, &c. The course of instruction lasts for three months, the fee 
for which is ^5. A demonstrator, when competent to take classes, has a salary of 
^50 a year, with a percentage on the number of pupils. 

Hair-dressing is an art in every respect suitable to women. For some years the 
great Bond Street hair-dressers, Messrs. Truefitt and Douglas, have been in the habit 
of taking apprentices, and in their rooms ladies can always be attended by women. 
A moderately clever girl is ready to give help in the hair-dressing saloon in six or 
nine months, and the wages are from to 35 j. a week. 

It would be a great advantage if ladies would prefer for themselves and their 
young children the services of women to those of men. A few girls earn a respectable 
living as visiting hair-dressers, but it must be much less fatiguing and more profitable 
to work in a shop, especially if the girl understands the preparation of supplementary 
hair, and the making of hair chains, brooches, and ornaments, which would employ 
her leisure time. 

There are various other trades in which girls can earn a living. Mr. Eugene 
Rimmel, 96, Strand, employs girls in the details of his perfumery business, whose 

2 L 



5 H 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


wages begin at Ss. and rise to 2 is. The work is light, the hours from 8 to 1 and 
2 to 7.30. Besides these, he employs others at rather higher wages to serve in 
his shops. 

The numerous other small trades, such as stationery, flower-making, feather¬ 
dressing, french polishing, &c., &c., have little to recommend them. The wages 
range from 7 s. to 15*., but employment is very precarious, and often entirely 
dependent on fashion. 

In conclusion, we must say a word to the largest class of our girls, who, however, 
have the power of self-maintenance so completely in their hands, who are so 
numerous and so indispensable to the well-being of the community, that they 
hardly want sign-posts to tell them what to do or where to go; we mean our house¬ 
hold servants, the girls who dress our food, clean our houses, go on our errands, 
and minister to us in the thousand ways which our present complex mode of life 
renders almost necessary. 

These girls come to us for the most part from poor and overcrowded homes; 
they have had little experience of dwellings in which there has been even free 
space to breathe, much less the opportunity of growing familiar with orderly and 
easy life. Is it not rather a marvel that they are often good, honest, and kind than 
that they are sometimes heedless, flippant, and unteachable ? The extravagance 
and wastefulness of large houses cause incalculable mischief; bread and meat, the 
sacred gifts of God, by which the life of man is maintained, and no fragment of 
which can be wilfully wasted or misused without sin, are often treated as a means of 
adding to the already too large wages of the cook, and the younger servants, catching 
the spirit of their superiors, quickly grow dainty, selfish, and unbearable. What a 
change there would be if every house-mistress made it her duty to superintend the 
expenses of her own household, and to know exactly what was required for its 
supply ! 

Even young women of liberal education do not always escape mistakes, if they 
are left in early youth to their own guidance; is it, then, fair to expect all the 
cardinal virtues from the daughters of the people, whose utmost learning has been 
gained from the parish or board schools ? VVe believe that the present class of our 
servants would contrast very favourably with their ancestresses three generations 
ago; clean faces, well-kept hair, and tidy clothes are the rule, not the exceptions, 
nowadays, and it is only fair to hope that, with all the encouragement held out to 
them to be thrifty and self-respecting by the Girls’ Friendly and other Societies, they 
will become continually more prudent and reliable. 

A girl who has had a dozen years’ training in a well-managed family is likely to make 
an infinitely better wife to a small tradesman or mechanic than a girl who rushes 
into matrimony from an overcrowded home before she is a woman, having spent 
her girlhood in one of the small trades, such as artificial flower-making, feather¬ 
making, &c. She knows what a home may be and ought to be; she can value 
order, cleanliness, and gentleness of speech, and, if she has any aptitude, will have 
learnt how to supply her household with nutritious and palatable food, a matter of 
paramount importance to the family health and good spirits. But while we commend 
the influence on a girl of a few years’ service in a well-regulated family, where a 
wise economy is the order of the day, we are well aware of the injurious influence 
on the character and mind of a young woman who becomes a member of a staff of 
servants, where the mistress deputes her work to a housekeeper, and where in some 




MISCELLANEOUS CALLINGS. 


515 


departments the servants have not enough to do to keep them out of mischief; 
while in others, especially in those that fall to the lot of young women, the unripe 
energies are overtasked, as by carrying scuttles of coals from the bottom to the top 
of high London houses, by the filling and emptying of baths, &c., offices in France 
for the most part assigned to men, but which in England generally fall to the lot of 
the under-housemaid, schoolroom or nursery-maid. 

In favourable circumstances, we repeat, there is no condition so conducive to 
health and comfort as that of the house servant; she is not exposed to inclement 
weather, she sees at once the fruit of her labour, she is well fed, well clothed, and 
works for those whom she loves and honours. Free from wearing responsibilities, 
with frequent opportunities of seeing her friends, and of giving them timely help 
occasionally, it is hardly possible to imagine why maid-servants should not be 
happy, and happy they are for the most part, likely to become happier, let us hope, 
as better opportunities of early education shall teach them to understand better what 
is meant by duty, and to live more intelligent and pious lives. 

It will perhaps be interesting to close this chapter with a few quotations 
from the census of 1881, which will show the number of women entered as engaged 
in the occupations we have described, and will relieve any nervous girl from the 
apprehension of doing anything strange or new if she should undertake to main¬ 
tain herself in one or other of them. 

The total number of females in England and Wales is 13,334,537, giving a 
surplus of 694,635 over the male population; the total number of women registered 
as engaged in remunerative work is 3,403,918. Teachers amount to 123,995 ; 
teachers of music, 11,376; chemists and druggists, 631 ; medical practitioners, 25; 
medical students and assistants, 64; midwives, 2,646 ; sick nurses, 35,175; painters 
and artists, 1,880; art students, 1,059; wood carvers, 28; engravers, 64; photo¬ 
graphers and photographic assistants, 1,309 ; lithographers and lithographic printers, 
135; printers, 2,202; law stationers, 100; commercial clerks, accountants, and 
others, 6,414; while those engaged in the Civil Service mount to the high number 
of 7,370. 

Besides those above enumerated, large numbers of women work with their 
fathers and husbands as tailors, watchmakers, &c.; but these are close trades, and 
offer little encouragement to outsiders. It should be remembered that the work of 
girls is, as it were, on its trial. If it be found to be inferior to that of men, it is but 
just that it should be paid for at a lower rate; but if equal or superior, surely it 
should stand upon its intrinsic worth, and be paid for accordingly. Every woman 
who does what she undertakes to do in the spirit of the true workman, rejoicing in 
it and doing it to the very best of her ability, is a benefactor to her sex—nay, more, 
a true patriot. 


2 L 2 



CHAPTER XIII—GIRLS’ ALLOWANCES. 


\ - 


GIRLS’ ALLOWANCES, AND HOW TO MANAGE THEM. 

By Dora De Blaquiere. 

THE WRONG WAY TO MANAGE THEM. 

* Cheap dress, bought for cheapness’ sake, and costly dress, bought for costliness’ 
sake, are both abominations. Right dress is bought only for its worth, and at its worth ; 
and bought only when wanted.’— Ruskin. 

N thinking over this most momentous subject, I speedily 
came to the conclusion that I must begin by holding 
up a kind of picture gallery of fearful examples; viz., 
of girls who had misused their allowances in various 
ways; and in this list, unless I am much mistaken, 
many of my girl readers will find exactly the caps 
that fit their own particular heads. 

There is no doubt that much of the blame for this 
mismanagement must rest on elder heads; for few 
mothers endeavour to prepare their daughters in any 
way to enter on their future duties, and, in fact, many 
of them do not know enough themselves to teach 
others. One of these great duties is, to my mind, to 
know how to manage money so as to spend it to the 
best advantage, and to procure everything of the best, 
and yet at the lowest market value. Money is one of our chiefest talents, and 
like time, another equally precious, is constantly being frittered away, in most 
cases ignorantly and thoughtlessly; but in others, alas ! wilfully and determinedly. 

{ Mother ’ has bought everything, and thought of everything, and chosen every 
dress or bonnet; and so, for years—the years of school-life—our maiden floats 
happily on, without a care, save for her pocket money, and how to make the 
shilling or two last to the end of each week. Then comes the hour of her emanci¬ 
pation from school; and both mother and father think that at. eighteen ‘ It is time 
that she should have an allowance, and learn to spend it for herself.’ Mother 
feels it rather an emancipation, too; for generally she has enough to think and 
plan for; and she yields consent gladly, and does not take at all into her con¬ 
sideration how unfitted her child is for managing money, how little she knows of 
the value of materials, or the amount required for anything. Even if you asked 
her how she expected her daughter to economise her allowance judiciously, you 
would probably get the laughing reply that she must learn some day; that 
experience was the best teacher; and, lastly, that as to herself, no one had given 











THE WRONG WAY TO MANAGE THEM. 


5i7 

her any instruction in managing her own.’ The first year or two of such a girl’s 
life, in regard to her dress allowance, is usually a very miserable period; and for¬ 
tunate indeed is she if sufficiently well-principled to avoid debt. 

It is incumbent, I think, on all parents to make their daughters fully understand 
what their allowance is for, and what they expect it to include; for, of course, when 
a girl is expected to purchase her own stationery and books, pay her own travelling 
expenses, and give to all charity and church collections out of her allowance, it 
very materially decreases the amount she has to spend on her dress. As a case in 
point, I give a page from one of our girls’ account-books, where they may see this 
exemplified. The amount of allowance is £20 per annum—^5 per quarter—and 
the month in which the page was written was February, little more than five weeks 
remaining of the winter quarter. 


£ s - d. 

Dress and making . . . . 2311 

Expenses of leaving home three 

times.o 10 102 

Brush and comb.050 

Stockings, calico, veil, gloves, 

and handkerchiefs . . .0165^ 

Presents.o 5 5s 


£ s. d. 

Collections and charity ... o 9 62 
Lace, muslin, and frilling . .0511 

Brooches and watch mending .016 
Magazine and lecture ...022 
Sundries.019 


Total ... £527 


Now, out of this quarter’s allowance of ^5, we find £1 8s. o\d. was spent on 
other objects than dress ; and if we take this sum as a basis of calculation for the 
whole year, we shall find that, deducting £$ 12s. 2 d., £14. 7 s. 10 d. is the true 
amount of the allowance for dress. And on this, taking one quarter’s expenditure 
with another, all calculations must be based when these deductions are expected 
from us. 

Therefore, I say that it is the duty of each girl to ascertain for herself exactly 
what is expected of her; for she must remember that if the allowance be given for 
dress solely, it is a breach of trust, so to say, to use it for charity or other purposes 
of the sort. It is not long ago that I heard a father complain of this very thing, 
remarking that he could not understand why, with good dress allowances of £30 
each, his daughters looked so dowdy and shabby. In this case the real cause was 
that both girls were spending fully half their allowances on charity, and, as young 
people will do when fired with the enthusiasm of youth, were forgetting everything 
in the one pursuit. When spoken to by the girls, on their side of the question, I 
advised them at once to come to an understanding with their father as to the 
amount they might have to spend on charity; for as he was a most liberal sub¬ 
scriber to collections and charities, he might think that they did enough by 
sharing in those, with him, from the general income. As it turned out, this was 
what he had thought; but he suggested that they had much leisure time, and 
might give their personal work and materials for it, but that he thought, while young 
and at home, gifts in money could not be expected from them. 

Of course, the real mistake that these girls had made will have occurred to most 
of my readers, and that was that they ought to have saved, by their own self-denial, 
by making their own clothes, by extra care of clothes, and by making-over old 
dresses for the poor. In this manner they might have done quite as much in 
reality, and have considered their father’s feelings about their appearance at the 
same time. Of course, each of us has a certain duty as regards charity to our 








5 i 8 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


fellow-creatures; but we must not take from money given us for a specific purpose. 
There is nothing to prevent our using extra care in the wear of clothing, and 
industry in re-making our clothes; and the gifts thus procured are the most 
delightful and pleasant of all to the happy giver. It was strange that this view did 
not occur to the girls I have mentioned; for at the very time that the discussion in 
which I was a party took place, they were disposing of their old dresses, bonnets, 
and mantles in what seemed to me a very careless and unthinking manner; for I 
hold the opinion that a very great number of merciful and loving acts of true 
charity may be performed if we only use those means that are apparently un¬ 
important. 

The next question is—after charities, what else is expected to be got out of the 
dress allowance ? All long journeys will naturally be paid as extras; but how is it about 
the numberless short ones, and those small expeditions which all young people 
take in this restless age of the world ? If these must be paid for, as well as the 
magazines and lectures, the collections, stationery, and charities, then we must, 
as I have said, make special allowances for them, and lay aside a certain sum 
during the year, quarter by quarter. Even then, out of ^io or ^12 per annum, I 
do not think these expenses could be afforded, nor should they be asked for. 

The next point, to my mind, into which inquiry should be made is, ‘ How is 
the young debutante provided with clothes when taking possession of her allow¬ 
ance ? ’ I find that, as a very general rule, her stock, both of outdoor apparel and 
underclothing, has been permitted to run so low that she enters on her new responsi¬ 
bilities burdened with many difficulties, which she might unquestionably have been 
spared. Perhaps her allowance begins in October, with neither winter jacket, furs, 
ulster, nor even a warm winter dress and flannels. Or, perhaps, it begins in April, 
when she has spring things to buy, and no provision at all in her wardrobe ; and 
this when the ‘ July Sales ’ are three months off! 

For this reason I find it impossible to make out what a girl who dresses on 
/io or ^12 per annum would require for the first year of having an allowance; 
because it is impossible to say what she may already have in her wardrobe. One 
thing is, however, quite sure—that her wants each year will not be respectively 
equal: for one of my girl-friends who has dressed for years on the first-mentioned 
sum assures me—and gives me evidence, too—that her expenses last year were only 
£8 , and that out of that she had a black cashmere dress, black straw bonnet 
trimmed with jet, and an ulster. She was in mourning the whole year, and was 
wearing crape for the greater part of it. So it is evident that there are years when 
we can make our small savings, with a view to winter jackets, furs, and evening 
dress, if we require it. ‘ The year I was ill/ says another girl, ‘ I saved £6 , and 
was very thankful I had done so, for I had afterwards to buy such warm flannels, 
and a fur-lined cloak, besides the new dresses I needed when i went away on visits 
for change of air after I was well/ 

On a dress allowance even of ^20 per annum I think there is little or no room 
for dressmakers’ bills, and certainly when the allowance sinks to £10 or £12 
there is no possibility of incurring them and of presenting a respectable appearance 
at the same time. It is for this reason, especially, that I think all mothers who 
neglect teaching their daughters, or having them taught, plain needle-work and 
cutting-out, as well as dressmaking, are so blameworthy. If the family income will 
not allow of dress allowances of more than £10, it is quite certain that such 




VARIOUS PLANS OF MANAGEMENT,. 


519 


knowledge is essential to a girl’s happiness and comfort. For her dress must be 
both neat and pretty, and like that of other girls, if she is expected to retain her 
self-respect and feeling of equality with the young people of her age. 

I have found, on inquiry, that in the country parts of England the usual price 
for making young ladies’ dresses is from 7 s. 6d. to io.r. Many girls get them made 
even in London for the latter sum, and very nicely, too. I also hear that very 
fairly efficient dressmakers are to be found who go out to work by the day, at from 
2 s. 6 d. to 3s. 6 d., and their food. Where there are several girls—if ‘ mother ’ 
could be persuaded to allow such a thing—a visit of a week or ten days from 
a capable person of this kind would be a great saving, especially if there were a 
sewing machine, which the young ladies could work themselves, and so help on the 
business. In America this kind of thing is done in the spring and autumn in 
nearly every household. A great deal may be learnt, also, from a clever worker; 
and patterns are to be obtained in nearly every town, where a shop for American 
paper-patterns is sure to be seen in one or more of the streets. 

There are also systems of scientific dress-making advertised, which appear to 
be most successful in their results, and which enable the learner to measure and 
cut out dresses with ease and complete success. And lastly, there is always the 
old-fashioned plan of keeping the lining of a well-fitting dress, and pasting it on 
brown paper, so as to preserve the shape accurately and render it easy to cut out. 
This is, to many girls, the most satisfactory plan of all, since, if this lining be 
accurately copied, the result is known beforehand, as the pattern is an old friend, 
and a tried one, and was proved to be becoming and comfortable. 

On the subject of going into debt, I would repeat, never be persuaded to have 
a bill; always do your best never to anticipate your quarterly allowance, but have 
the full sum ready to lay out in what you need. I know few things so unsatisfactory 
as having to pay bills, and to run in debt over again to get your new winter or 
summer outfit. 

Some one has cleverly said * paying cash is a great check on the imagination ; ’ 
and so my girls will find in this matter, so important to them, of making the best 
of their allowances. 

I have headed my chapter with a quotation from Ruskin, which to my mind is 
both apt and true, and contains the gist of the whole question of dressing well and 
suitably. This condemnation of ‘ cheap dress for cheapness’ sake ’ is peculiarly 
wise, for though seeking cheapness, we must not forget value and suitability as 
well; and it is well worth while to educate both eye and taste in this matter. 
Our money is a * talent,’ and as such must be treated with thoughtful care. 


VARIOUS PLANS OF MANAGEMENT. 

‘ She always had a natural taste for dress. The first thing I ever heard about her 
was that she dressed well—an excellent gift for a woman.’— Carlyle (speaking of his 
wife). 

My own particular girl, Mary—who honours me with her advice and assistance 
in this most difficult research—is a fountain of wisdom, though her years are few, 
and she is a long way from grey hairs. She has dressed for years, too, on ^10 a 



520 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


year, and knows all the 1 ins and outs/ and her profound study of economy puts 
one to shame. My other girl-friend, Ethel, who sits beside me, busily scanning 
the following lists for the hundredth time, is a model of goodness, too, in her way. 
She has passed the ‘ Senior Oxford,’ has been through the ‘ School of Cookery,’ and 
has two ambitions—one is to send up a whole dinner of her very own cooking, and 
the other to know ‘ how to make her own dresses; ’ in pursuance of which last idea 
she is now going through a course of scientific lessons, and makes her head swell 
daily over the most awfully deep calculations, made by means of a perfectly hopeless- 
looking chart. She is getting on, however; and after her lesson of to-day, assured 
me that she 1 thought she saw light through her back, but it was very difficult to 
learn a divided front! ’ 

Mary has a more thrifty and economical turn of mind, and represents that class 
of girls who prefer a good thing, and do not mind so much about the fashion ; but 
are willing and clever enough to turn and twist their dresses as long as they will last. 
Ethel belongs to the other set of girls, who prefer to buy cheap, fashionable things, 
which last a shorter time, but are put on and worn until they are worn out, without 
change of shape or form. These represent the two ideas of dress which rule 
amongst young girls in the present day; and very warm are the arguments between 
the champions of the two conflicting opinions. I hold a middle course, because I 
personally prefer a thing to be at the same time both good and fashionable, but 
like Ethel, I want very few things — two ordinary dresses a year, for instance, but 
good enough to look well to the last, and fashionable enough also to defy hostile 
criticism, too, or those meditative eyes which one woman turns on another, in the 
effort to find her out and judge of her social status by her outward apparel. These 
are, therefore, the three influences which have given their best consideration to the 
three lists that follow, which are made out on the basis of £io a year. 

But some one will say, how is it that when the first list is £13 6s. iod., the 
second £8 15^. 61 ., and the third year £11 i6j. 4 d. ? The first list given is really a 
kind of experimental list, for no girl when she begins her allowance, or commences 
a new year, is wholly without something in her wardrobe more or less good. 
What these articles would be in each wardrobe it would of course be difficult 
even to guess ; so it has seemed best to us to take a list of things wanted in any 
ordinary wardrobe for a year. If the owner were nearly ‘ run down ’ and out of 
this list, each girl can select the things she has and does not need, as well as the 
things she has not got, and must buy, to the value of her allowance of £\o. 

The second year’s list shows the things that would be required in that year, 
were the chief expenses borne during the previous year. It will always be found 
that every second or third year will be a year of saving, and in this way we shall 
be able to accomplish the purchase of a new winter jacket, new furs, or to pay for 
repairs to those we have. Our spring and summer outdoor covering must some¬ 
times be replaced by a light cashmere jacket or cape, and this must be done when 
the year of saving comes round. The third year’s account, we all three have 
decided, could be very much reduced, for, as Mary says, 1 no one could have run 
through two winter dresses; and if the material were good, one of them should be 
on hand ready to do up, turn, or dye, for the third winter’s use. All the boots, 
likewise, cannot be worn out, and a new pair should not be needed ; and some 
stockings must be extant. The petticoat, too, may need a new top, which might 
be made so as to take off a worn-out edge.’ 



VARIOUS PLANS OF MANAGEMENT, 


521 


First Year’s Supposed List. 


Four pairs stockings (Lisle 

£ 

s. 

d. 

thread, 2 s. 10 d.) . 

0 

II 

4 

Four pairs woollen stockings Os.) 

0 

12 

0 

One dozen handkerchiefs . . 

0 

5 

0 

One pair black stays .... 

0 

10 

6 

Two pairs house shoes (4^.) . • 

0 

8 

0 

One pair boots. 

1 

1 

0 

One pair walking shoes . . . 

0 

8 

6 

Gloves. 

Winter dress of serge and toque 

0 

15 

0 

(3J. a yard). 

Nuns’ cloth dress (ij. a yard) . 

1 

10 

0 

0 

16 

0 

Linings, etc. 

0 

3 

6 

Washing dress • • • • • 

0 

10 

0 


£ d. 


Bonnet.060 

Summer hat, covered with muslin 

and lace.030 

Ulster.1 1 o 

Winter jacket ..110 

Fur cape . o 12 6 

Umbrella {en tout cas) . . .076 

Under-vests, winter and summer 046 

Two flannel petticoats . . . o 10' o 

Underlinen.o 10 o 

Sundries.100 

Winter petticoat ..... o 10 6 


Total. . ^13 6 10 


Second Year. 




£ 

s. 

d. 


£ s. 

d. 

Handkerchiefs, half-a- 

dozen. 

• 0 

5 

0 

Bonnet. 


0 

Stays . 

• • 

. 0 

10 

6 

Summer hat .... 


0 

Gloves. 

• • 

. 0 

15 

0 

Renovating winter jacket. 

. . 0 10 

0 

Boots and shoes . • 

• • 

. 1 

1 7 

6 

Underlinen. 


0 

Winter dress . • • 

• • 

. 1 

10 

0 

Sundries. 


0 

Summer dress . • • 

• • 

• 0 

18 

6 




Washing dress. • • 

• • 

. 0 

10 

0 

Total . 

• 

00 

►-< 

6 


Third Year. 







£ 

s. 

d. 


£ 

s. 

d. 

Stockings . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

0 

11 

4 

Bonnet and hat • • • 

. . 0 

9 

0 

Woollen stockings. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

0 

12 

0 

Umbrella • • • 


7 

6 

Handkerchiefs . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

0 

5 

0 

Linen ... . • 

• . 0 

10 

0 

Stays . • . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

0 

10 

6 

Petticoat ..... 

• . 0 

10 

0 

Boots and shoes . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

1 

1 7 

6 

Fur cape and repairs . • 

• . 1 

10 

0 

Gloves .... 

• 

• 

• 

• 

0 

15 

0 

Sundries. 


0 

0 

Winter dress . • 

• 

• 

• 

• 

1 

10 

0 

• 




Summer dress . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

0 

18 

6 





Washing dress. . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

0 

10 

0 

Total. 


16 

4 


The following is a reduced table of charges at which I find certain things can 
be procured which are too highly priced in the first list, perhaps 


House shoes .••••• 

Boots (walking). 

Oxford shoes. 

Winter dress (skirt made) • . 

Ulster. 


£ s - d - 
0 2 0 

o 7 11 
056 
1 1 o 

0156 


Winter jacket . . • • 

Winter petticoat • • • 


Total. 


£ s. d. 
• 017 

. o 5 


. £3 H I* 


These things I have priced and examined myself, and thought them excellent for 
the money^ and likely to wear well. Some one, however, may say, ‘ where are we 
to go to find such things?’ Mary, on being consulted, says, ‘Oh, lots of places: 


0 ON 










































522 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


Edgware Road, Oxford Street, Tottenham Court Road, Upper Street, Islington, 
and many other places, I dare say, that I have never tried.’ Mary, who lives in 
the country, adds that she manages to come to town for her shopping, and does 
it when on visits, as London is cheaper than the country. 

I have already mentioned the difference of opinion that exists between girls as 
well as married women on the question of purchasing things to wear, so I shall 
throughout this chapter consider both sides as far as possible; but SN I wish 
my girls to remember very distinctly that I myself consider the essence of good 
dressing consists in having as few things as possible, and in taking great care of 
them, so that they may look well to the last. This careful treatment may be 
almost reduced to a science, and every girl who has to dress on £10 yearly must 
be prepared to acquire it with both time and thought. 

While I am writing for the aid and assistance of those with £\o allowances, I 
am still endeavouring to help those also who have much more, for it stands to reason 
that, if one girl can make a ladylike appearance on ^io, another who has ^30 
could do the same on the same money, and would be able to add the extras she 
requires for day and evening dress with judicious care. The same under-clothing, 
for instance, or nearly so, would answer for both girls, except that the richer one 
may go on visits and require a couple of best sets, which she should always keep 
for the purpose, and should use them for no other occasions. The same might be 
said of boots and shoes; the addition of one or two pairs of best evening and day 
shoes should make the difference, although in this last matter there is a very great 
difference in the way two girls respectively will wear their boots and shoes. 

One thing must be borne in mind in making our purchases—that when we have 
to dress on ^ioa year, the very extreme of fashion is best avoided, as well as all 
fashions likely to grow peculiar within a short time. Individual tastes—or rather 
‘fads,’ as the North-country people say—must also be tabooed—excepting, of course, 
when they relate to becoming colours and shapes, which have been proved the best 
by experience. In these two last-named matters we shall do well to be as adamant 
in our firmness. 

The extreme of fashion in patterns and materials it will be well to avoid; 
because, even if we make up our minds to have only two dresses, and wear them 
until done with, anything ‘ loud ’ becomes so quickly remarkable, and so do we 
ourselves, because we have no change to make. One of my friends, for instance, 
indulged herself in a complete costume of ‘ smashed strawberry colour ’ when it first 
came out, and of course has been worried all the year by the one dress, which 
every one knew, till she was positively forced into the purchase of a second for the 
sake of escaping observation. The colour, also, was too light to wear well, and if 
it had not been for the fortunate fancy for trimming every material with velvet, my 
poor friend would have been much worse off. But a few yards of dark red velveteen 
made matters straight in September, and the unfortunately-chosen dress looked a 
different thing with a * Fedora puff,’ cuffs of velveteen, and bands of the same on 
the skirt. In this way the difficulties presented by the tennis-parties of the autumn 
were surmounted; but in spite of this happy issue the lesson of experience was 
learnt, and I do not think the same error will be again committed. 

In England, more than anywhere else, I think that colours are ‘ run to the 
ground ’ when they become popular, and much bad taste appears to me to be 
shown by those who ought to know better 





COLOUR AND TEXTURE IN DRESS. 


523 


We are more fortunate, however, in the matter of shapes, and can always find 
them sufficiently unobtrusive to last in fashion for some time. The coronet shape in 
bonnets, and the small princess, and the ‘toque' and ‘ bowler’ in hats, appear to 
be always worn, and the nuances of difference each season can be noticed and 
adopted by any one who can use a needle and thread. One of the best dressed, 
as she is one of the highest in rank in England—H.R.H. the Princess of Wales—is 
also the most conservative in fashion, for she does not, apparently, vary her bonnet 
shape for a year at a time, the small ‘ princess ’ suiting her so admirably that she 
looks better every time we see her in it. 

But, says some one, perhaps, ‘ Girls on an allowance of £10 cannot go into 
society (so-called), of course.’ Not to evening parties, very probably; but thousands 
of girls in England never do go to them, and are only required to look nice always; 
or they perhaps live in a country neighbourhood, where lawn-tennis is the only 
diversion. Mary, however, says that she dresses every evening for dinner, and 
though she does not go out into what is called ‘ society,’ as the heads of her family 
are invalids, still they constantly have visitors staying in the house, and she is never 
without two dresses, suitable for the quiet evenings at home. One of these is 
always a black grenadine with varieties of trimmings in blue, grenat, and cream; 
and the other is usually her summer’s dress, which she chooses with special reference 
to the evening wear it must undergo. If needful she has it cleaned; but as a 
general thing, she can manage without that for some time. She has just done up a 
very pretty evening dress, which is composed of a green velveteen skirt of two 
winters’ wear, and a part of her summer’s sateen dress, which was of pale green, 
with flowers on it. The front had a green velveteen plastron added to it, and some 
cheap cream lace made the whole look both elegant and becoming. 


COLOUR AND TEXTURE IN DRESS. 

* The purest and most thoughtful minds are those that love colour the most.’ 

Ruskin. 

I am quite sure that most of my readers’ first emotion at this saying of Ruskin’s 
will be one of extreme surprise. Unhappily for ourselves, we have almost ceased 
to make a study of colour in dress, and we had our attention turned to it 
some few years back when the aesthetic party made it a part of their cult, and 
turned it into an external emblem of the woe and unhappiness which they think is 
the lot of mankind. But we are much indebted to them for all that, for they have 
brought in numbers of tones and half-tones of colour, which are beautiful and 
becoming in their application both to dress and furniture. The shades of yellow, 
red, and blue, and the new possibilities of wearing green, and green and blue 
together, are all of them delightfully novel experiences, and few introductions in 
the way of colour were ever so pretty and so becoming as peacock-blue and 
peacock-green. 

But in spite of aesthetic assistance, the majority of women and girls wear black 
for the greater part of the year, and seem to have taken to heart thoroughly the 
advice given in a popular book on dress, i.e. ‘ to endeavour to slip through life in 
an unobtrusive suit of black.’ There is no doubt but that dwellers in London, and 



524 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK . 

in the other smoky towns of the British Islands, are driven in a measure to wear 
black in the autumn and winter months; but there is no need to wear it when 
summer weather prevails, even though we in England have but little summer 
to boast of. 

Colour, of course, affects size. Dressed in black and dark hues, stout people 
look smaller, both in the street and in the house; and the dimensions of small 
people are so decreased that they appear like fairies and dwarfs. The optical effect 
ui white and light colours is to enlarge all objects, and make the ‘ stout party ’ who 
dons them almost mountainous in her outlines; but she need not, for this reason, 
look dingy or dull, for the rich, dark hues offered to her for selection are number¬ 
less. Greens and blues, in their various shades, are better than reds, giving an 
effect of repose and distance. 

All materials that reflect light should be avoided for the bodice, as they have no 
shadows, and are trying in their effects. The use of velvet, both black and 
coloured, for the bodice, is most becoming to both the stout and very thin, as it 
forms deep masses of shadow, absorbing the light, and thus effaces the outlines of 
both figures. In fact, the chief object of dress, rightly considered, is to show all 
the outli?ies of the figure which are good and perfect , and conceal what is exaggerated ,, 
ungraceful or deformed. I have underlined, this, for I hope all the readers of The 
Girl's Own Indoor Book will peruse and carefully think it over. Some months ago, I 
went to see a young girl at school, who had arrived at that difficult period, between 
twelve and fourteen, when even with the greatest attention all girls look ungainly 
and awkward. My girl is no exception to the rule, for she is very tall, and of 
course looks just now more legs than body. Her dress, a large check, of many 
colours, very short, with a gathered waist and band, added to her ungainly appear¬ 
ance. My idea of a pretty dress would have been a plain red or dark blue 
cashmere or serge, made with a flounced skirt, a polonaise, and full front: for girls 
of that age should have no waist, and the princesse dress or polonaise is the best 
thing for them. 

Of course, the complexion has much to say also in deciding the choice of colours. 
Girls with sallow, dark faces must choose clear tints: white, light blue, violet or 
black; and avoid glaring bright and undecided hues. Drab, yellow, cherry, and 
pale green are all unsuitable for them. Girls with clear skins and pale faces may 
select all shades of rose, primrose, buff, light green, lilac, brown, and violet. Dark 
brown or olive complexions must avoid undecided hues of all kinds, as well as very 
dark or very light ones; and choose clear decided tints, such as geranium, violet, 
and pink. Florid persons should wear the tints that subdue colour, and give the 
effect of distance: such as blue and green ; and fair girls, with a colour, will find 
few shades unbecoming to them. Pale complexions must wear fresh colours, such 
as cherry and pink. Grey, as a rule, suits the young girl and the very old lady: 
but is rarely becoming to those between the two ages. 

There should always be one predominating colour in dress, to which all others 
must be subordinated. The brighter and more positive colour should have less 
space than the subdued neutral or semi-neutral tint. In grey and green, the grey 
should predominate with brown; pink and yellow, as well as red and blue, may be 
used as trimmings. 

Colour has an influence not only over beauty but over health. Dark colours are 
found to absorb and give out smells of all kinds to a greater extent than the light; 





COLOUR AND TEXTURE IN DRESS. 


525 


and therefore nurses for the sick are not allowed to wear dark dresses. Thus, an 
American physician has recently advised that nurses of all kinds should avoid 
wearing black dresses entirely, stating that black cotton is bad, black wool worse, 
and black silk the most injurious of all. He even thinks that doctors should not 
wear black clothes when visiting patients, on account of the results to be feared. 
An English writer of recent date also demonstrated the fact that colour affects our 
warmth and comfort, as white and light-coloured fabrics reflect the heat, and black 
and dark ones absorb it; at the same time black throws it off sooner, and white 
clothing would retain the heat of the body longer than black. Of course, therefore, 
to be really warm we should follow the example of the Polar bears and other Polar 
animals, and wear white raiment in the winter. Alas ! that our climate, and our 
foolish habit of soiling our atmosphere with the smoke that we should and could 
consume, prevents our following the example set by those who dwell in the spotless 
snowy lands, clothed suitably by an All-Wise Father. 

And now a few lines must be given to the discussion of materials. The effect 
of velvet has just been mentioned as good in absorbing the light and massing the 
shadows; plush, on the contrary, is thick and ungraceful, and consequently (though 
probably people do not know why) rarely remains long in fashion. All rough 
materials add to the size and breadth of the figure, and consequently only those with 
a smooth surface should be chosen by the stout and tall, leaving the others for 
people who need both breadth and length. 

Plaids and stripes should both be avoided by the tall and stout, but if stripes be 
worn they should be horizontal, the vertical stripes being left to the short and stout 
who wish to increase their apparent height. If a figured fabric be chosen by a stout 
girl, the figure should be large, and the same may be said of spots or of any ether 
pattern. 

With regard to the making of the dress I must say a little. There are several 
styles—such as the polonaise, open below the waist in front and drawn into drapery 
at the back—that are very becoming to stout figures. The same may be said of 
coat-shaped jackets with waistcoat fronts, and basque-bodices with points, much 
cut-up on the hips, with coat-tail back, as they are now worn. 

Waistcoats and long plastrons are also becoming, as they take away the look of 
breadth; but an ordinary basque bodice, forming a line round the hips, should never 
be worn, nor should I recommend a belt, which is ruinous to any figure that has lost 
its proportions, whether thin or fat. 

Along mantle should be chosen for out-of-door use, and perpendicular trimmings 
selected for it in preference to horizontal ones. No stout girl or woman should 
wear a plain, closely-fitting dress, which must attract attention to her deficiencies or 
her superfluous dimensions. One of the great secrets of reducing the appearance of 
size is to have the petticoats all made with well-fitting yokes, and to reduce the fulness 
of all garments round the waist and hips. A small dress improver is always needed 
by a stout figure, to take off the flatness of the back, which makes the bodice fall in an 
ugly manner. A tiny cushion of horsehair is now very generally worn, which is light 
and cool, and supplies the want better than crinoline or wires. I hardly think I need 
warn any of my girl-readers against tight-lacing, for I trust they are all of them too 
sensible and too well-principled to resort to such an unwholesome method of reducing 
their natural size ; but as a temptation to try it may prove too much for my stout 
girls, I beg of them, especially, to refrain, as such a practice would be more suicidal 



526 


THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK . 


to them than to any one else, for it will ruin the complexion, give them red hands 
and arms, and as to their noses ! . . . A well-fitting corset will give form and a 
decided outline to the figure, which, without it, would lack much of grace and 
symmetry. 

In regard to bonnets, stout people must eschew both the very small and the very 
large, and preserve a moderate proportion in the appearance of the head. 

The dressing of the hair should also be carefully attended to; girls with a high 
forehead should be careful to avoid drawing it from the face —it should be worn by 
them either in curls, or in waves over it. A thin, long face is also improved by the 
same treatment, especially where the cheekbones are very visible. A round, flat 
face requires the hair to be dressed on the forehead, and not at the sides ; regular 
and straight features should have simple wavy hair, with the middle parting 
accurately made, while a beautiful head should have its outline preserved by quite 
smooth hair. As a rule, I think women, both married and unmarried, rush into the 
wearing of caps long before there is any occasion for adopting them, and while their 
own hair, if properly dressed, would look much more suitable and becoming. 

I have thus endeavoured to give my girl readers a few rules by which to govern 
themselves in the selection of their dresses, and the choice of shapes and colours. 
There is little to be said to the ordinary girl, who is neither thin nor fat, or indeed 
to the thin ones; for they have only to use what I have reprobated for the stout. 
An over amount of drapery should be avoided in both cases; and simple straight 
lines should be chosen by all who desire to look well, in preference to trimmings 
‘ without rhyme or reason.’ So far as my own opinion goes, I am inclined to think 
that girls may wear most things, so long as they are not extreme in fashion, and so- 
long as the dress fits well. But to take to each new colour as it comes out, merely 
because it is new, shows an uncultivated and uncultured mind, which has not 
sufficiently thought out the things becoming to itself. When once they have been 
considered and decided upon, it is as well to adhere to the opinions formed; a 
course which will simplify the question of choosing articles of dress amazingly ; and 
will also conduce to the absolute forgetfulness of dress, when once put on, which 
should be the frame of mind of every well-bred woman. 


DRESSES, WINTER CLOAKS, AND SUMMER MANTLES. 

‘There are many reasons for thinking that we do not at present attach enough 
importance to beautiful dress, as one of the means of influencing taste and character.’ 

Ruskin. 

In the present section we shall discuss the two most important considerations 
in the disposal of our allowance, /.<?., the winter cloak and the dresses for summer 
and winter. It will be seen by a reference to the list for three years’ expenditure 
given on page 521 that I have provided for a winter dress at 30 s., a nun’s cloth at 
i6j-., and a washing dress ior. This I have allowed every year. But taking one 
year with another there are some for which you will not need a winter dress, and 
many when you can manage without a new summer one. Indeed, these last few 
years I have found many girls adhering to their costumes of cashmere and 




DRESSES, WINTER-CLOAKS , AND SUMMER-MANTLES . 


527 


serge in all seasons, winter and summer, purchasing the skirts ready made, and 
making the bodices themselves. 

Washing dresses, if properly chosen, will last several years, and nothing is 
prettier nor more economical for the summer weather (if warm enough), and more 
especially if you have not to pay for your own washing. There are several fabrics 
that wash and wear well, and of these nothing is better nor more becoming than 
gingham. All the colours shown are quite reliable, but of them all I prefer the 
pink; that never looks washed out, and it can be so prettily trimmed with Swiss 
embroidery or lace that it may be as ‘ dressy ’ as you please. Besides, by changing 
the trimmings you may nearly make a last year’s dress into a new one for the 
present year. Next to this come white dresses of all kinds of material, for, 
provided they wash, they all look well when trimmed with plenty of good 
embroidery, which you will do well to work for yourself. In this case it will wear 
double the time of any you can purchase. Workhouse sheeting is also a good material, 
and should be trimmed with lace to match, and looks well with a black velveteen 
skirt. One of the most useful of textiles is the coarse Indian tussore silk. Nothing 
surpasses it for wearing and for washing, and a well-made polonaise can be worn 
with a black velveteen or a Turkey-red skirt. I fear the newer introductions of 
sateens, chintzes, and cottonettes are not to be recommended, unless, indeed, you 
prefer to purchase a fashionable dress and wear it until it be past its work. This is 
the case with some young ladies, and they consider it saves much trouble, and 
enables them to devote time to other things which they would be obliged to give to 
dress. 

Having discussed the dress for hot weather, we must now turn to the winter one, 
which should not on any account be too heavy, as you will be obliged to take turns 
out of it during the whole course of the year. At the seaside or in the country, 
warm dresses are never out of place, and one should be always at hand to put on 
when chilly. 

I like, for my own part, serge and tweed as winter dresses; nothing looks so 
well or wears better, but both must be carefully chosen at a reliable shop and a fair 
price be paid for them. There is still another material, and that is linsey, which 
has been much improved of late years in its manufacture. The best rule to make 
for yourself in this matter of winter dresses is to buy nothing but the best materials. 
A good dress, well made and well fitting, should last at least three winters. The 
first year it will be the very best dress, the second year not quite in so good a 
position, and the third year some serious alteration and amendment will be required. 
Fresh braid and buttons for the front and sleeves should be supplied to all dresses 
directly they require them, for nothing makes a dress look more old and shabby 
than a single worn-out button. Fronts and plastrons of silk and velvet, with new 
cuffs, are invaluable for making a dress look new again, and one of the new Swiss 
belts will much improve them also. 

It is on this point of renovation that the sewing machine will assist you, for 
you can alter and remake a dress in half the time when you have your sewing 
machine to help you. Cashmere is another of the invaluable materials to the 
economical. The wear of a good one is endless, and it bears making over and 
cleaning to any amount. It combines with silk, velveteen, poplin, and satin, and 
thus can be made up again when half worn, so as to look as good as new. Nun’s 
cloth is also an excellent wearing material; but I do not advise you to buy a thick 




528 


THE GIRL’S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


one, as they generally wear rough. Nun’s cloth trimmed with black lace forms a 
very pretty summer dress, and is so inexpensive that I have seen them at the 
summer sales with the skirt made up for 37or 38s. 

And now we must turn to the subject of colour. So far as economy is 
concerned, we have no choice; we must stick to black, or to brown-grey or steels 
of various shades, for we cannot afford to choose anything which would appear 
remarkable either for its colour or its shape. Black, unless very good, looks rusty 
after a great deal of wear, while brown has not this drawback, and, besides this, it 
can be worn with so many different colours to enliven it, that for a young girl it is 
perhaps preferable to black. But the brown must be a rich one, of a kind of 
chocolate hue, to look always well. 

Brown velveteen wears longer than black, and looks well to the last. 

I have not yet touched on the subject of evening dress, but I do not think you 
need have much anxiety about that, as, at the sales, great bargains may be picked 
up ; and now that black lace is so much worn, either that or ‘ string-coloured ’ will 
be suitable. I have seen black lace dresses, mixed with satin, for 35^. 6d.; and 
black striped grenadines are to be purchased for a guinea. Pale-coloured 
cashmeres are also to be got for that amount, and they are very pretty and 
girlish. 

What is called a ‘Cora’ silk has been strongly recommended as a best or 
evening dress for young girls. It is of a pale cream-colour, and is beautifully soft, 
and wears wonderfully well. I think it costs about a guinea the piece of nine or 
ten yards, and a dress of it could be made up on a foundation of white alpaca. 
There are other Indian silks, of much the same quality, in what are called ‘ art 
colours;’ and these make exceedingly pretty dresses. A very dark girl of my 
acquaintance always has a bright Indian yellow one, which is the object of 
universal admiration; and there is a dull, Egyptian-like blue, which is equally 
becoming and inexpensive for girls of fairer complexion. 

And now arises an anxious question, which has been put to me over and over 
again: Is there any chance of ever having a black or colpured silk, on such a 
small annual allowance as ^10 or ^15? I think there is a very good chance 
indeed, with management, but of course a large price cannot be given for it; and 
I would advise you to go to a really good shop, where you are sure to be able to 
trust their opinion in the purchase. The material itself will cost about £5, and you 
should not pay less than 6s. a yard, being careful to select a small-ribbed silk, not 
very stiff nor firm, but soft and yet not flimsy. The underskirt must of course be 
made of alpaca; and from fourteen to sixteen yards of silk should be ample. I 
have seen plenty of black silks, with the skirts made, in the shops for £3 and £6; 
but, unless quite sure that they are of pretty good quality, you had better get good 
silk and make it at home. A black silk is a real tower of strength, for you can 
make many changes both in morning and evening dress by its means. A grenadine 
polonaise turns it into a summer dress; and when it becomes worn, and a little 
shabby, one of the numberless members of the family of brocades will make it look 
quite new again, unless you prefer to use a good cashmere, which, however, is not 
so dressy. 

The next step to be discussed is the winter’s cloak or jacket. This forms 
rather a trouble to some people, but I do not see any difficulty in getting what we 
want, and at a moderate price. Many girls just at present are buying plain jackets. 



DRESSES, WINTER CLOAKS AND SUMMER MANTLES. 


5 2 9 


and braiding them themselves with the sewing machine. I have put down the 
winter jacket at a guinea, but, of course, 30^. would be a better sum to expend on 
it, for the materials would be so much better, and would wear longer. 1'he fur 
cape at 12s. would be a dyed fur, but still it would look very well for a long time, 
unless you got it wet, when it would never look well again. If you could afford it, 
a better cape would be advisable; but a clever and thoughtful girl, with a head for 
contriving, and with the assistance of my three years’ table, would see where she 
could save during one year to improve her next year’s purchases. 

Young girls do not now wear much out-of-doors in the way of a mantle : and, 
indeed, they may always avoid the expense of this, either by wearing a thicker 
bodice, or else by having a flannel habit-shirt or flannel bodice made to wear inside, 
to give sufficient warmth. If an outer covering must be worn, the small shoulder- 
capes are not very expensive, and can be obtained in brocaded velvet, which is 
nearly as warm as fur. I think, however, that a well-made black jacket of cloth, 
braided, or of broch'e velvet, is better for a young girl. These light cloth jackets 
are invaluable to take the place of the winter jacket, for in our changeable climate 
we need an extra covering. 

I have put down the ulster at a guinea. A young friend of mine informs me that 
she has got one for 16^. in Oxford Street; but it is only fair to say that she required a 
very small size, and when this is the case there is usually no difficulty in buying 
cheap out-of-door garments. The winter petticoat, also, I am informed, is too 
extravagantly priced, as, with the help of old dress skirts, a far better arrangement 
could be made. 

The under-vest can be purchased at any price, but many girls I know prefer to 
knit them of white wool, and consider them softer and better. Other girls have 
adopted the combination worn by many of the Girton girls, made of fine flannels or 
winseys of a grey colour, and have thus got rid of under-vests and chemises, and only 
wear one petticoat instead of two. This naturally is a great saving, and has only one 
drawback—the inevitable washing; and when the London washerwoman gets hold 
of flannel, woe betides it indeed ! 

I must not omit to exhort my young readers to practise extreme neatness in 
all their ways, and cleanliness in the various little appointments of the toilet. Do 
not fail to have a pretty dressing-jacket or gown; a nightdress satchel, and small 
bags for your shoes, if you travel. Mend all the holes, and sew on all the buttons in 
your gloves and everywhere else directly they require it; and beware of putting on 
soiled and dusty clothes. Use the clothes-brush with an unsparing hand. Never 
go away from home without work materials, pins, hairpins, and boot buttons: and 
do not make yourself a nuisance by borrowing from your friends. Take your 
writing materials wherever you go; and when leaving home take no untidy luggage. 
Trunks and boxes are now so cheap that no one need be without a neat one, 
lettered with their initials and neatly bound. Be careful in packing; fold every¬ 
thing neatly; do not turn your dresses inside out, but fold them on the right side, 
and lay sheets of tissue paper between the folds of delicate dresses. When you 
arrive, do not fail to unpack all your things at once, and lay them in the drawers, 
or hang them up; and put all your belongings where you can find them in a 
moment; or you will surely be in a hurry, toss things over and spoil them. 

And now I have to enter on a different part of my subject. I have hitherto 
spoken of small allowances for dress, and the way to make the most of them; but 

2 M 




530 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


our correspondence shows that there -are others who claim help in making the most 
of allowances much larger in amount, and yet small in proportion to the style in 
which they live and the duties they have to perform. So I have obtained a few 
notes from a lady of high rank as assistance to those who have allowances of p£6o 
to ^ioo; and I have no doubt all my girl-readers will like to know what other 
girls do who are obliged to think of economy as well as themselves, and who. are 
expected to do as much, in proportion, with a large allowance as they are obliged 
to do with a small one. 

4 From the allowance being ample,’ says the writer, 4 1 conclude that the owner 
is in a position where stationery, washing, and travelling expenses are paid for her; 
also fees for servants when visiting, and tickets for various entertainments and 
amusements. I also take it for granted that there are visits to be paid to country 
houses, six weeks, or perhaps a season in town, and that evening or dinner dress 
•is to be worn every evening. I must also suppose that she begins with a certain 
amount of dresses and underclothing, which will only require renewing in part from 
the yearly allowance. 

4 1 think I must begin with a few rules which I laid down for my own use long 
ago, and finding in them safe guides, I rarely deviate from them. First, you must 
make no agreement to give your wardrobe to your maid, as it leads to discomfort 
and often prevents your making use of old materials, which would have been a 
saving, but worst of all, it prevents your helping friends or relatives who are less 
well off than yourself, and, moreover, debars you from the duty, as well as pleasure, 
of giving to the poor. Next, you must have a good sewing-machine, and be able 
to work it yourself; and, lastly, you must be able to make your own bonnets, and 
your maid must be able to make some of your dresses, to fit well, and to be a quick 
worker. Amongst all others, perhaps the most important rule, to keep you com¬ 
fortable on your allowance, is to pay for everything, if not at the moment of 
purchase, within a month’s time. 

4 You will have one great assistance in your struggles if you be of such a stature 
that you can purchase ready-made skirts to fit you at the best shops in London, 
for then your maid can make the bodices at little additional expense ; but if very 
tall, or what is called 4 over-sized,’ no ready-made article will fit you, and that 
always entails lengthening or another breadth, new sleeves, perchance new fronts 
to a jacket. This is a difficulty that only those who have suffered from their 
proportions can realise. You are, in this case, at the mercy of the shopman, who 
buys his skirts and jackets of a certain measurement and pattern, and if you 
require them altered, he is obliged to employ more expensive workers, and must 
increase his charge accordingly. Of course, if the articles be made by the firm 
themselves, they will generally try to alter them so as to fit. 

4 It is the fashion to say that dress is 44 so much cheaper than it was a few years 
ago,” because machine-work has considerably lessened the price of labour. But 
for a more expensive style of dress, I do not see that the actual article is really 
cheaper. On the contrary, a silk dinner or evening dress from a good London 
house, some twenty-five years ago, would have cost from £\2 to ^18, whereas at 
present you cannot obtain anything of the same sort under from ^£25 to ^30; and 
the number of dresses, bonnets, etc., required makes it very difficult to manage a 
fixed allowance as well as formerly. 

4 1 can remember when I was a young girl, moving in London society, and going 



DRESSES, WINTER CLOAKS AND SUMMER MANTLES. 


531 


to Court, out nearly every night of the season, and going to “ breakfasts ” (as garden 
parties were then called), that one walking bonnet, a pretty driving one, and a 
third for grand occasions, were enough; and a simple muslin dress, with a few 
ribbons, made a young lady’s afternoon-party dress, and might be worn at more 
than one. But now, the constant change, and the small items en suite —parasol, 
shoes, stockings, etc.—must all match the bonnet and dress ; and any muslin dress 
must be half lace, though the lace may be cheap and effective. Now there are 
double the number of afternoon gaieties, tennis-parties, and bazaars, all of which 
must be provided for. 

‘ Then, in the old days, if you rode, your hat would probably last you two 
years, and your habit certainly the same length of time; but now, both habit and 
hat, like your bonnets, must be of the last new shape of the year; and you must 
have special boots and gloves for the park; while for the country you must have a 
low-crowned hat, and rougher habit, a covert coat, and other things. 

‘ During the first days of the January and July sales you may occasionally 
obtain things you want in the way of cloak, dresses, ribbons, and flowers; and so 
they are both useful and advantageous. But before going, arm yourself with 
fortitude to resist “ bargains,” and make no such financial mistake as to buy anything 
in the way of dress because it is “ cheap, and will be useful some day.” That day 
will never come. Every shade of colour changes each year; you cannot buy more, 
even of a plain colour, than will make up a dress for the present year; and even 
the materials in black are difficult to match in quality and colour, and the material 
itself may be out of date. 

1 However beautiful a sash, a parasol, or a material may be, depend on it they 
will not go with anything else you have ; and were they not very nearly out of date, 
the shopkeeper would reserve them till after the sale. 

‘ And now, as there is nothing like seeing a calculation on paper, I have jotted 
down the items needful for a young lady with a maid, who has an allowance of 
;£ioo per annum; and of course it will be an easy matter for those who have less 
to dismiss or lower the different items :— 


£ *- 

A good black or dark silk dress, 
suited for any time of year; 
the skirt may be bought ready¬ 
made, and the bodice made at 

home. 7 7 

Black nun’s cloth dress (at home) 3 3 

Tailor’s serge dress ...» 5 5 

A jacket. 3 3 

A warm cloak. 5 5 

A tennis dress (flannel) ... 4 4 

2 cotton dresses (made at home) 2 2 

3 evening dresses. 1212 

2 dinner dresses.8 8 

Home dinner dress . . . . 2 10 

1 opera cloak. 1 1 

1 tea gown. 2 10 

1 dressing gown.010 

6 pairs stockings (3 black) ^..14 


d. 




£ 

s. 

d. 


3 pairs evening coloured thread 





stockings, 2 s. . . . 



0 

6 

0 


3 pairs evening shoes . 



1 

1 

0 


1 pair house shoes. 



0 

7 

0 

0 

1 pair walking boots . 



1 

10 

0 

0 

1 pair tennis, shoes 



0 

9 

0 

0 

Waterproof. 



2 

1 

0 

0 

1 umbrella. 



0 

10 

0 

0 

En tout cas . 



0 

6 

0 

0 

2 hats. 



1 

10 

0 

0 

2 bonnets (made at home) 



1 

0 

0 

0 

Ties, cuffs, and collars 



1 

0 

0 

0 

Gloves . 



3 

0 

0 

0 

Pocket-handkerchiefs. 



1 

0 

0 

0 

0 

U nderclothing—petticoats 



4 

0 

0 

0 

0 



£76 

4 

0 



2 

M 

2 





















532 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


‘ A wide margin of nearly £2$ is left in this calculation, and as I look over the 
various items, I see that they might be further reduced ; for if you ride, your habit 
(which must be made by a good tailor) will cost £10, your hats £1 is., your 
gloves, 12s., and boots iSs .; and if you use top-boots, they will be £3 y. a pair. 

‘ Besides all this, no calculation will be complete without mention of the 
necessary Court train, which you will not be able to give to a dressmaker; but 
you must arrange to make it at home, if some friend will allow your maid to see 
hers made the same year. By it you must measure the length, breadth, and shape 
at the top. It is the easiest thing to make it; but as they, too, alter every year, a 
pattern must be seen. The under-dress is, of course, a new evening dress, and as 
our gracious Queen prefers to receive her loyal subjects by daylight instead of 
candle light, it is essential that every material used should be perfectly fresh and 
able to bear the test imposed on it of the strongest light to be obtained in our 
English climate in the early days of spring. 

‘ I have already spoken of the convenience of getting your dresses with the 
skirts ready-made, and from some of the largest and best class of London shops 
you can obtain both morning and evening ones, beautifully made and in good taste. 
With a black and a white silk evening bodice you can refresh your dresses with but 
little expense, if you also have a clever and a willing maid, one clever enough to 
take hints for your benefit from every side. So long as you remain true to black 
and white, you will find evening dresses comparatively inexpensive; they are not 
recognisable, and bear any amount of changes in flowers, tunics, lace, trimmings, 
or drapery. 

1 Underlinen, too, is now so moderate in price, and so excellent in quality, 
and is trimmed with so much taste, that it does not seem worth while to occupy 
your own or your maid’s time with it; you had far better cultivate a talent for 
dressmaking or embroidery, which you can apply most usefully to your dresses. 
What is called “English embroidery” is always useful, and, possessed of a sewing 
machine that braids, you can add to the effect of many a plain dress or jacket. 
Now that jerseys are made so pretty and ornamental, you can often supply the 
place of a made-up bodice with them, and they can be purchased in either thin or 
thick materials.’ 

I think I have now alluded to all the chief points that will help young 
readers to manage a fixed allowance. One good and golden rule in this, as in 
everything in life, is that no point is too small to be attended to which touches our 
personal influence for good, and carries out a parent’s wishes, and enables us to 
give pleasure to those we love. If we do our best to live up to this rule, we shall 
pursue our path with the sunshine of God’s blessing, without which life in either a 
palace or a cottage would be indeed a dreary thing. 




CHAPTER XIV. 


THE HIGHER LIFE 



GOING TO CHURCH 


































































































































































































































CHAPTER XIV.—THE HIGHER LIFE. 


HOW TO READ THE BIBLE. 

By the Editor. 

T is not uncharitable to conjecture that many girls 
read their Bibles improperly; and that although their 
copies of God’s Holy Word may be well bethumbed 
and worn, which is so far a good sign, yet they do 
not get all the good out of the Bible that they can. 

The Girl’s Own Indoor Book supplies a large 
amount of knowledge that should teach fair readers 
the way to extract the greatest good from the things 
of this earth. It would be an unpardonable omission 
if it failed to say something about much more im¬ 
portant things that concern God. 

And how shall this be done ? There can be no 
better way than to direct the careful and prayerful 
attention of every reader to God’s Holy Word revealed 
to us in Scripture. In those wonderful pages—a 
complete literature in themselves—everything that is needful for the religious life 
can be found. The Bible is a mirror, revealing to us ourselves, in all our sins 
and weakness and need. It also shows us Jesus Christ in His wondrous Person, 
in His redeeming love, in His brotherly sympathy and helpful power. By reading 
the Bible we come to know that if any man sin we have an Advocate with the 
Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous, and that He is the propitiation for our sins, and 
not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world; that Jesus Christ came 
into the world to save sinners; that the Holy Spirit helps our infirmities, instructing 
us in the will of God, helping us to resist sin, and making us strong and wise foi 
the duties of life. Therefore read and study and pray over the blessed pages of the 
Bible, His Word, if you want to know what you are, and what is God’s will 
concerning yourself. 

But how shall we read the Bible to the best advantage ? 

First, you must read it with prayer that God will give you His heavenly 
grace to understand His will, and that what you read may be blessed to your 
souls. 

Secondly, you must read it with intelligence. Now an intelligent reading of 
the Bible requires a great deal of study. Not that the most ignorant of what this 
world calls learning are not competent, on that account, to receive and to hold fast 
the vital truths of our religion; for, as Horsley says, the most illiterate Christian, if 











536 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


he will but read his English Bible in a proper manner, can not only attain all that 
practical knowledge which is essential to salvation, but, by God’s blessing, will 
become learned in everything relating to his religion in such a degree that he will 
not be liable to be misled, either by the refuted arguments or the false assertions 
of those who endeavour to engraft their own opinions upon the oracles of 
God. 

Therefore, what all the readers of this volume should do is, to combine both 
the faith of the illiterate and spiritually learned with the wisdom and knowledge of 
an earnest student. They should, by God’s help, grasp and prove the great and 
simple doctrines of the Gospel:— 1 The existence and perfections of God, the unity 
of Jehovah, of God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, the fall of man, the 
corruption of human nature, our moral responsibility, redemption through the 
atonement of Christ, the renewal of the heart by the influence of the Holy Spirit, 
the freeness and sovereignty of Divine Grace, the progressive holiness of Christians, 
and their final and eternal blessedness.’ 

Our girls should be conversant with the geography of the Holy Land, with the 
histories, manners, and customs of the various nations, should know the accepted 
interpretation of the difficult passages, and be able to give a reason for the faith 
that is in them, but also to prove biblical statement by parallel passages for their 
own edification and building up in the faith, and that they may experience 
the blessedness of imparting their own glorious knowledge to others. 

Those girls who are earnest in their theological studies should, if at all possible, 
procure for themselves The Bible Handbook. The author of this valuable book, 
however, offers the following wise cautions to those using handbooks as aids to the 
reading of the Bible :— 

‘ We are not to contemplate the glorious fabric of Divine truth as spectators 
only. It is not our business to stand before Scripture and admire it, but to stand 
within, that we may believe and obey it. In the way of inward communion and 
obedience only shall we see the beauty of its treasures. It yields them to none but 
the loving and the humble. We must enter and unite ourselves with that which we 
would know before we can know it more than in name. 

‘Nor must the study of a help to Scripture be confounded with the study of 
Scripture itself. Such helps may teach us to look at truth so as to see its position 
and proportions, but it is the help of truth alone which gives light. The road we 
are about to travel may prove attractive and pleasing, but its great attraction is its 
end. It leads to the “ wells of salvation.” To suppose that the journey, or the 
sight of the living water—perhaps even of the place whence it springs—will quench 
our thirst, is to betray most mournful self-deceit or the profoundest ignorance. 
Our aim—“ the sabbath and port of our labours ”—is to make more clear and 
impressive the Book of God, “the god of books,” as one calls it, the Bible 
itself.’ 

We cannot do better in this connection than direct the attention of our girl 
readers to some extracts from an admirable little book by the Rev. R.^B. 
Girdlestone, M.A., Principal of Wycliffe Hall, Oxford, entitled How to Study the 
English Bible. It is a small but most helpful book, and its price, eighteenpence, 
brings it within the reach of all readers. 1 Canon Girdlestone gives the following 
admirable directions :— 

1 Published by the Religious Tract Society. 



THE HIGHER LIFE. 


537 


I.—Rules for Studying The Bible. 

i. Get an idea of the Bible as a whole .—The best way to begin the study of 
geography is to get a good look at a globe. It enables one to see the proportions 
ot sea and land, the main outlines of continents, and the relative sizes and positions 
of various countries. So we ought to get a “ Pisgah view” of the Bible, and this 
ought to be done, not from an analysis, but from the Book itself. It will take some 
time, but in the long run this preliminary rapid reading of the Bible will prove 
serviceable. We have to deal with sixty-six books by some forty different authors, 
ranging from about b.c. 1500 to a.d. 70 : we have to study history, law, poetry, 
letters; we have to dive into the writings of kings, priests, princes, shepherds, 
fishermen ; and we need to get a bird’s-eye view of the whole in order to give to 
each book its due position. 

‘ In spite of the variety of style and contents, we speedily find, as we read the 
whole through—whether we take a week, a month, or a year about it—that the 
Book is indeed one. It is the work, in the main if not entirely, of men of one 
nation. It is written by Israel, for Israel, and about Israel. We thus get an 
impression that the doings of this people, and God’s dealing with them, are 
intended to be the medium whereby the world is to be instructed and restored. 
Again, whilst an Israelite literature, it sets forth all truth, whether physical, 
historical, or spiritual, in God’s name : it is written by God to effect God’s purpose: 
and to plant true godliness in men’s hearts. All subjects are treated from a Divine 
point of view, everything is attributed to God—whether creation, natural order, 
moral law, natural and individual prosperity or calamity. In all these things, God 
is the actor. If a man’s heart is hardened or opened, God is the doer of it. Good 
and evil are from Him. There may be processes, as when man was created from 
dust, or when an east wind brought locusts, but these are usually omitted; it is 
enough to know that He is the source of all power, physical, mental, moral. Long 
periods may have been occupied in some of these processes, as when a mighty wind 
blew “ all that day and all that night ” before Israel crossed the Red Sea. But it is 
not the object of the writers usually to chronicle these periods, whether in relation 
to the preparation of earth for man, or in reference to the various stages of human 
history. Centuries, and perhaps much longer periods, are passed over without a 
word. The everlasting God faints not nor is wearied. Events far distant from one 
another on the circumference of history are equally near Him in Whom all live, 
move, and have their being. 

‘Again, a rapid reading deepens our conviction of the truth of the old saying, that 
all roads in the Bible lead to Christ. The Pentateuch is expectant of Canaan ; the 
historical books that follow give a disappointing view of the period of occupation, 
when judges were raised up and kings ruled; but the Psalms and prophets lift up 
one’s sinking heart and point to a brighter prospect, both spiritual and material, 
and to a better King and more permanent Kingdom, in which the old promise 
made to Abraham should be fulfilled. The New Testament opens with the first 
coming of the King. We learn His nature, His character, His work, and see the 
outlines of the Kingdom traced out before He is withdrawn from view. Then 
comes the Apostolic age, which might be called the ushering in of the dispensation 
of the Holy Ghost, and the bright prospect emphatically set forth through the last 
part of the Bible, that the King is coming again and His Kingdom to be established 




538 


THE GIRDS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


in righteousness and in permanence. Thus, as the Old Testament left the Jew 
waiting for the coming of Christ, the New Testament leaves us waiting for His final 
triumph, and guarantees it by the two great events it records—the mission of Jesus 
and the mission of the Holy Ghost. 

2. ‘ Read each Book as a whole. —After the student has patiently, watchfully and 
prayerfully read the Bible through, in as short a time as possible, he singles out a 
book which he resolves to study,—perhaps a Gospel, or perhaps the Book of 
Genesis. His first business will be to read it through from beginning to end, and 
if it is an argumentative book, such as an Epistle, he had better read it two or three 
times before going into details, noting but not pausing over things which strike him 
on the way. This is the plan recommended by the celebrated John Locke, and it 
is certainly most helpful. It enables us to get the drift and tendency and spirit of 
a book. It makes us at home with the writer, and gives us familiarity with his 
mind and style. No two writers are in all respects alike, and no two books have 
exactly the same object. Some write in prose, others in poetry. It is estimated 
that a third of the Old Testament is poetry—not indeed rhyme or metre, but a 
balancing or parallelism of thought, as we can see for ourselves when we read the 
Psalms and prophets in a paragraph Bible. 

‘ Genesis may be called a book of beginnings; Exodus, of redemption ; Leviticus, 
of sacrifice; Numbers, of order; Deuteronomy, of practical life. The historical 
books set forth God in history; Job reminds us how unsearchable are His ways in 
Nature and Providence. The Psalms guide our devotion; the Proverbs give 
precepts of wisdom; the prophets preach with one voice on the text, “ Return unto 
Me, for I have redeemed thee.” Again, each prophet has his special features ; each 
illustrates from the scenes amidst which he was brought up. Amos is an agricul¬ 
turist, but Daniel dwells among kings; one is sublime, another pathetic, a third 
ideal; one preaches restitution, whilst another is heavy with the thought of retribu¬ 
tion. All of them are quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword ; 
and all of them are pioneers, clearing the way for the Saviour. In the New 
Testament, each Gospel has its peculiar portraiture of Christ; the Acts sketch the 
founding of the Church; the Epistles show how to apply Christian truth to the 
needs of daily life; and the Apocalypse takes us to the end of time, and opens to 
us the door of heaven. 

3. ‘ Read each Book in the light of its Age. —It is a good plan to study 
chronologically. This does not mean that we are necessarily to begin with Genesis 
and go straight through,—a course which would debar us from the study of the 
New Testament for many years. Rather it means that we should read each book 
in the light of the period in which it was written, getting all the information we can 
concerning the author, and reading his other writings alongside of that which we 
are specially studying. It is the fashion now, and a very good one, to study certain 
epochs or central periods of history; and we can well apply this method to the 
Bible. 

‘ Thus we should take together, as far as possible, the history and the poetry 
of David; the history of the Kings from Uzziah’s time, together with the con¬ 
temporary group of prophets—Isaiah, Hosea, Micah, Joel, Amos; the period 
immediately preceding the captivity together with Zephaniah, Ezekiel, Jeremiah; 
the captivity itself with Daniel; and the post-captivity period with Haggai, Zechariah, 
and Malachi. 



THE HIGHER LIFE. 


539 


So, in the New Testament, it is well to take together St. Peter’s speeches and 
letters^; St. Paul’s history and letters; St. John’s Gospel and letters. 

^ e have constantly to bear in mind that the so-called historical writers in the 
Bible (whom the Jews more properly call Prophets) do not profess to give us 
continuous history. They only give selections, part of which were taken from “ the 
chronicles of the kings of Israel”; moreover, they do not always follow an exact 
chronological order. Thus the last chapters of Judges and the Book of Ruth refer 
to a period much earlier than that in which they stand; and so, in the New 
Testament, the Evangelists depart sometimes from historical order, in order to put 
certain incidents or teachings side by side for our instruction. 

4. 1 Read each verse in the light of the Context. —In order to ascertain the 
meaning of any written statement, whether secular or sacred, we must read each 
sentence in the light of its context—/.<?., of the neighbouring sentences. In the 
Bible we ought to study passages rather than verses. The length of a “ passage” 
varies according to circumstances, and it may not be always easy to say where one 
passage ends and another begins. The sectional marks in some Bibles (IT) may 
help us, and the division into paragraphs and sub-paragraphs ought to make the 
matter clear, and where this is not the case, practice and the use of our common- 
sense will generally enable us to decide. 

‘ The advantages of this method of study are manifold. First, it usually enables 
us to see clearly who is the speaker or actor in each passage. It may be God, or it 
may be a prophet, or it may be an ordinary man; the view expressed may be 
inspired, or it may simply be the belief at the period. One of the first questions we 
ask concerning any statement recorded in the Bible is, Who makes it ? Its influence 
on our life will vary according to the answer. 

‘ Again, the studying of the context enables us to see whether the statement 
contained in a verse or fragment of a verse is conditional or unconditional, or 
whether it needs to be qualified by the circumstances under which it is uttered. 
There is a little sentence familiar in many quarters, taken from Matt, xviii.—viz., 
“ Hear the Church.” The words are our Lord’s, but they are not a round order to 
the laity to listen to the clergy. The context shows that it is a matter of disagree¬ 
ment between two brothers, which is to be brought in the last resort before the 
Church— i.e., the community or congregation with which the contending parties are 
supposed to be connected. Again, there is a well-known book entitled: The 
Restitution of all Things. There is, of course, no harm in taking such a title, but 
it is well to look at the words in their context (Acts iii. 21), in order to find their 
true meaning. Thus, we learn that it is not the restitution of all things generally— 
a sort of universalism—which St. Peter is speaking of, but a special restitution 
predicted by the ancient prophets; this leads us to search into the prophecies for 
particulars as to this restitution. Again, no text is more familiar, and few have 
been more blessed than that which we read in 1 John i. 7, which is usually quoted 
thus:—“The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” But, on turning to 
the passage, we find the little word “ if” introduced. It runs thus :—“ If we walk in 
the light, . . . the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.” It 
implies that we have already come to the light, and are walking in the light, so 
that we are like the man who has bathed and needeth not save to wash his feet 
(John xiii.). Again, the study of the context will keep us from misapplying a text, 
or throwing its force into the wrong direction. Thus, in Phil. ii. 12, there is an 



540 


THE GIRL'S OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


oft-quoted sentence : “ Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it 
is God that worketh in you both to will and to do of His good pleasure.” Preachers 
are in the habit of dwelling on the apparent inconsistency between the two halves 
cf the passage, and they argue from it that we cannot reconcile the doctrine of 
free will with Divine influence. But take a step farther back, and the passage 
reads thus: “ Wherefore, my beloved brethren, as ye have always obeyed, not as in 
my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation, for,” 
&c.,—in other words, “Depend not on me, but on God; I cannot do for you 
(whether present or absent), what He can.” 

5. ‘ Examine the Meaning of the Words .—Words are little things, but they are 
not to be despised. A little key opens a precious casket, and a little coin will 
purchase what may save a life; and so, a little word may suggest a world of 
meaning, or become the turning-point of a destiny. It has been said that words are 
finite, whilst the things which they represent are infinite. That is true; but we 
cannot get at the infinite truth except through finite words. Bible words need 
to be carefully studied and well weighed; their usage must be mastered, and we 
must be prepared to give “ small change ” for them, that is, to translate them into the 
language of our present daily life. 

‘ But it may be said that, as our Bible is only a translation, we must not press its 
words too far. This is true. Yet the Bible is a very good translation, and if we 
read the Revised Version along with the Authorised, we shall never go very far 
wrong, and even without the help of the Revision we may safely lean upon the 
English Bible in all practical matters. 

6. ‘ Compare Scripture with Scripture. —The Bible is the best commentary on 
itself. We can best explain hard texts in the light of easy ones, short texts in the 
light of those which expand a subject, allusions in the light of direct statements. 
For this purpose, a trained memory is most helpful; and one part of Scripture 
which we may come across in our daily reading, may, in the most unexpected way, 
throw light on a hard passage in a distant part of the Bible. God, who fashioneth 
all hearts alike, has given to all the sacred writers the same spirit, and thus they 
incidentally, or, as we might say, accidentally, illustrate one another’s meaning. 

1 The parallel passages in reference Bibles are very helpful, but they must be read 
watchfully. Putting aside purely verbal references, there remain the two great 
classes, historical and doctrinal. Under the first are included casual references to 
the history of bygone times, a% when Isaiah (ix. 4) refers to “ the day of Midian ; ” or 
to laws and rites, as in 2 Kings iii. 20, where we have the reference to the time of 
the daily morning offering, and chap. iv. 23, where the feasts of the new moon and 
Sabbath are casually mentioned. 

‘ The doctrinal references are in some respects still more important. When we 
read some statement of truth which appears either difficult to receive or very impor¬ 
tant in its bearing on life and thought, having first assured ourselves by the study 
of the context that it is really a message from God, and having examined as far as 
possible the usage of the words, we ask ourselves whether there is anything like it 
elsewhere, either in the same book or in some other part of the Bible. Scripture 
not only confirms Scripture, but also guides and checks us in interpreting. When 
Satan said to Christ, “ It is written,” Christ replied, “ It is written again,” and the 
passage which He quoted affirms a general principle which qualifies the interpreta¬ 
tion of the passage which Satan quoted. Our Lord once said, “ How hardly shall 



THE HIGHER LIFE. 


54i 


they that' lave riches enter into the kingdom,” but immediately afterwards He 
qualified it thus, “ How hardly shall they that trust in riches enter.” Salvation is 
ma e to depend on belief in Jesus Christ, in the 16th of the Acts, but on confession 
that God had raised Him from the dead, in the 10th of the Romans. Entrance 
into the kingdom involves new birth, in the 3rd of St. John; but it involves a 
righteousness exceeding that of the Scribes and Pharisees, in the 5th of St. Matthew. 
St. Paul says in one passage that what is needful is not circumcision nor uncircum- 
cision, but anew creature” (Gal. vi. 15): in another place, he substitutes for a 
new creature u faith which worketh by love ” (Gal. v. 6); and yet in another, “ the 
keeping of the commandments of God ” (1 Cor. vii. 19). Our Lord says, “ Ask, and 
ye shall receive; St. James says, “Ye ask and receive not, because ye ask amiss.” 

Seek, and ye shall find; ” but Moses (and his words are echoed by Jeremiah) says 
we must seek with our whole heart. “ Knock, and it shall be opened; ” but a time 
will come when men will knock in vain. Once more, our Lord says that the believer 
is passed from death unto life (John v. 24), but St. John, taking up this last 
expression, applies it to one who loves his brother (1 John iii. 14). 

II.— The Practical and Devotional Use of The Bible. 

1. ‘ Meditation on the Word. —This is the last and most important stage of Bible 
study. The student has sought God’s blessing on the Word, and has endeavoured 
to find out its meaning and teaching; and it remains for him to ask, How does this 
passage apply to me ? to my own life and destiny and relation to God ? What 
guidance does it offer me in my social intercourse ? in my business life ? in my 
dealings with the world ? in my teaching, visiting, or mission work ? 

‘ We need to be honest with ourselves at this point. We are inclined to qualify 
and modify the precepts of Christ and His claim on the Christian disciple. We 
tone down unconsciously the vigour of St. Paul’s remonstrances, the force of his 
figures, such as “ Death to sin,” the strictness of the law of retribution, and of judg¬ 
ment according to works; the demand of absolute self-sacrifice, and of truth at any 
cost; the need of meekness, forbearance, self-restraint and sympathy. Again, we 
feel God’s promises to be too high for us, we know He is perfect, and we are vile. 
What can He have to do with such as we are ? He is faithful, but will He be so to 
us ? He is a prayer-hearing God, but will He hear our prayers ? 

* Nevertheless our duty is clear. Every promise must be grasped and realised as 
true; every precept must be registered in the heart, and acted out in the life, in 
the strength of God. In this spirit of readiness we^eek to turn God’s truth into 
action. 

‘ Our first duty is to meditate. Some people say they cannot meditate; they do 
not know what it means, or they have no time, or they go to sleep when they begin. 
But meditation is a matter of habit, and we can all be trained into it. What are 
its elements? It consists primarily in picturing up the actual state of things 
brought before us in our reading, whether it be an incident, a prayer, an exhorta¬ 
tion, a proverb, a prophecy. 

‘ Then we have mentally to adjust the picture thus formed with the pictures 
already in our mind—to hang it, so to speak, in its right place, so that it may 
blend with the convictions of truth already attained. 

‘ Thirdly, we seek to link the spirit of the passage with our own personal experi¬ 
ence of things human and Divine. 



THE GIRLS OWN INDOOR BOOK. 


542 

‘ Fourthly, we seek to stir up our soul to notes of praise and thanksgiving, delight¬ 
ing ourselves in God’s Word, rejoicing in the prospect it presents, yielding ourselves 
in joyful submission to its precepts, and at the same time searching ourselves in the 
light of its cautions, humbling ourselves over our past coldness or doubts—for most 
of our failures come from doubting God. This seems to be the process called 
inwardly digesting God’s truth. 

2. ‘ Turn Scripture into Prayer .—When in a spirit of quiet thought we have thus 
resolved and revolved God’s Word, we are prepared to pray over it. The Bible is 
the best prayer-book in the world, as it has been called the best story-book in the 
world. It is full of instances of prayer; it supplies us with those thoughts about 
God which stimulate our faith to approach Him expectantly, earnestly, confidently. 
The records of human need and Divine generosity are not far-fetched ; they answer 
to our own case. The intercession of Abraham for Sodom, the prayer of Abraham’s 
servant, the wrestling of Jacob, the pleadings of Moses, the strong crying of David, 
the spiritual conflicts of Elijah, Jonah, and Jeremiah, the public and formal prayers 
of Solomon and Ezra, and the secret confessions of Daniel—all are the outpourings 
of hearts like our own. They do not seem very ancient. In most respects they 
might have been written in our own life-time. The New Testament gives us further 
teaching about the way of approach, and makes new demands on our spiritual life, 
whilst offering us a new standard to live up to. Thus, we are called and encouraged 
to new labour in prayer, whilst we have a new example in Him who prayed, and 
wept, and bled. 

1 Every precept in Scripture may be turned into prayer, and every promise into 
praise. We may find something in every passage which comes before us both to 
pray over and to thank God over. Coleridge once said that, if we wish to make 
old truths fresh, we must turn them into action. All action presupposes prayer, 
and all prayer ought to lead on to action. God’s promises are not a substitute for 
prayer, but a stimulus to it. He knoweth what we have need of before we ask, but 
He expects us to ask all the same. He will be inquired of by us. And so prayer 
is not a substitute for action, but the deliberate contact of the soul with God, 
whence we draw an enabling force whereby we go forth conquering and to conquer. 

3. ‘ Apply Scripture to Daily Life .—In applying Scripture to our own case, and 
making it a light to our feet and a lamp to our path, we need to bear in mind 
certain principles of application such as the following :— 

(1.) ‘ God is the same now as in the days of the Apostles, of David, of Abraham, 
of Adam. Jesus Christ is also the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. The 
Spirit of the living God is the same as when Paul said, “ Walk in the Spirit, and ye 
shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh.” The hearts of all men are fashioned alike, 
influenced by the same classes of motives, and liable to the same temptations and 
difficulties. Modern questions are really old. Even such matters as land laws, 
adulteration, class legislation, social purity, have been dealt with as far back as the 
days of Moses. Hence the Book of God is to be used by us freely in dealing with 
all matters of to-day’s interest, and is to be consulted at every turn in our life. It 
is written for all time and for all classes, and has some message for every one of us 
every day of our lives. “ These books,” says Robert Boyle, “ were so wisely and 
graciously tempered that, as some pictures seem to have their eyes directly fixed on 
every one that looks on them, from what part soever of the room he eyes them, 
there is scarce any frame of spirit a man may be of, or any condition he can be in, 




THE HIGHER LIFE . 


543 


to which some passage of Scripture is not as patly applicable as if it were meant 
for him, or said to him, as Nathan once did to David: Thou art the man. 

(2.) ‘ Many things were written for our instruction which were not written for 
our example. Numbers of things have been said and done and have been recorded 
in the Bible which we must not say or do. Some would be downright immoral, 
whilst others are not adapted for our times and circumstances. We have to 
remember that even an inspired man is not infallible ; a prophet or an apostle may 
be blameworthy in conduct; Peter was to be condemned, Paul and Barnabas 
quarrelled, the spirit of Elijah is alien to the Spirit of Christ. 

(3.) ‘ We must bear in mind the remark of Robert Boyle, that all parts of 
Scripture are useful in some ages, and some in all, and that many commands are 
temporary and applicable to special cases, and so not of universal obligation. 
Augustine says (Christian Doctrine , iii. 17): Some commands are given to all in 
common, others to particular persons. Sanction was sometimes given to customs 
in Israel which were only barely permissible in early times, but would now be 
ranked as wrong. Whilst it is true that certain human characteristics which lay 
dormant in the days of the Old Testament were developed in the Christian 
dispensation, it is also the case that modes of speaking and living which were 
winked at in the Mosaic age, tacitly drop out of existence under the rule and 
influence of the Spirit of Christ. There were many beliefs and customs among 
the Jews in our Lord’s time which, so far as we know, He did not expose or 
interdict, but we dare not say that what He did not condemn in so many words, 
He sanctioned. Rather, He exhibited certain principles in His life and teaching 
which tended to undermine and get rid of all that was false, as lights get rid of 
darkness; moreover, His Apostles were guided to apply these principles to the 
circumstances of their day, and to establish a series of precedents according to 
which life in its many sides might be rightly directed. 

(4.) ‘We have to distinguish between a deed or statement being recorded and 
being approved or ordered. As Boyle has said, “ All is not Scripture that is in the 
Scripture; many wicked persons are introduced whose sayings the Holy Ghost 
does not adopt, but barely registers, nor does the Scripture affirm that which they 
said was true, but that it is true they said it.” Job’s friends were not always right 
in their views or in their condemnation of this afflicted man, though they un¬ 
doubtedly gave utterance to many wise sayings. A doctrine cannot be proved true 
because it was uttered by David or Hezekiah or a wise woman of Tekoah, though, 
in any such case, it must be treated with full respect, and used as a confirmation of 
direct doctrinal teaching. If a Pharisee asks, Who can forgive sins but God only ? 
we keep our mind in suspense; but if on high authority we read, “ To the Lord our 
God belong mercies and forgivenesses ” (Dan. ix. 9), our mind is clearer on the 
subject; and when we find God revealing Himself as ready to forgive (Exod. 
xxxiv. 7), all doubt as to the source of pardon is over.’ 




INDEX 


\ 




Accent, in poetry, 455 
Accomplishments, 143, 201 
Afternoon parties, 352 
Allowances, girls’, 516 

American cookery, 397 ; cakes, 398 ; pies, 

399 

Anaemia, treatment of, 295 

Antimacassar, crewel, 38 

Aprons, designs for, 46, 140; history of, 136 

Arithmetic, study of, 477 

Art Needlework, Royal School of, 502 

Art, remunerative, 496 

Asparagus, tinned, 420 

Australian bush cookery, 413 

-tinned meats, hints on, 424 

Baby’s shoes, knitting of, 71 

Back-ache, treatment of, 295 

Bain Marie, the, 370 

Ballad of Literary Fame, the, 46S 

Ballade, the, 467 

Bedroom hangings, 47 

Bee stings, treatment of, 302 

Beetroot, stewed, 415 

Bible, the, how to read, 537 

Birthday cards, how to paint, 269 

Bites, treatment of, 301 

Bleeding, treatment of, 299 

Blisters, treatment of, 300 

Boiled oil, 262 

Boils, treatment of, 301 

Book-covers, designs for, 62 

Book-keepers, girl, 507 

Bouillabaise, 414 

Bouquet garni, the, 372 

Breath, treatment of offensive, 295 

Brewers’ caps, children’s, knitting of, 75 

Bridal etiquette, 356 

Brown roux, 422 

Bruises, treatment of, 300 

Brushes, painting, 223, 262, 273 

Bryony design, 51 

Buns, 414 

Burns, treatment of, 299 


Button-holing, 34 

Button-hole and satin stitch, 131 ; designs for 
132 

Buttons, sewing on, 33 

Cafe-au-lait, 371 
Cakes, American, 398 

-, German, 390 

Calling, etiquette of, 349 
Calisthenics, 333 
Caramels, 373 

Cards, birthday and Christmas, how to paint, 
269 ; visiting, etiquette concerning, 348 
Cavendish Institute, the, 541 
Census, female, 515 
Charade, 319 

Chemistry of food and cookery, 361 ; cookery 
and digestion, 365 
Cherries, preserved, 388 
Chervil, 373 

China, how to paint on, 271 ; colours for, 
273; brushes, 273; materials, 274; classi* 
fication of colours, 274 ; subjects, 276 ; test 
tile, 277 ; dabbling, 278; remunerative, 
500 

Chocolate, French, 371 

-, way to make, 416 

Choir teacher, the amateur, 186 
Choking, treatment for, 302 
Choufleur au gratin, 384 
Chowders, American, 400 
Christmas cards, how to paint, 269 
Church organist, the amateur, 184 
City and Guilds of London Technical Institute, 
499 

Clam soup, 401 
Clerks, girl, 507 
Clematis, wild, design, 51 
Coffee cream, German, 392 

-roasting, 406 

Cold, treatment of, 294, 296 
Colours, composition of, 231 

-, water, 224 ; oil, 256 

Columbus, tapestry belonging to, 38 










INDEX. 


545 


Concertina, how to play the, 197 
Condy’s fluid, 295 
Conventional designs, 40 
Conveyances, game of, 316 
Cookery, 361 ; chemistry of, 361 ; English 
and French contrasted, 370 ; pot au feu, 
370 ; Marmite, bain Marie, 370 ; frying- 
pans, 371 ; cafe-au-lait, 371 ; chocolate, 
371 ; snails, mussels, 371 ; salads, 372, 380 ; 
soups, 372 ; bouquet garni, 372 ; fat for 
frying, 373 ; vinegars, 373 ; vegetables, 
373 ; caramel, 373 ; puddings and tarts, 
374 ; menus, 374 ; fried potatoes, 376 ; la 
friture, 377 ; dough-nuts, 379 ; lettuce for 
salad, 381 ; recipe for sauce, 381 ; salad 
mixing, 381 ; tomatoes, 382 ; endive, 382 ; 
French dishes, 382 ; German, 389 ; Italian, 
392 ; American, 397 ; Scotch, 401 ; Nor¬ 
wegian, 404 ; Swedish, 405 ; Egyptian, 411 ; 
Australian, 413 ; explanation of terms used 
in, 425 

Cooking and digestion, 365 
Cooks, remunerative work for, 512 
Cordonnet stitch, 54 

Crewel-work, 36 ; needles, 36 ; thimble, 36 ; 
colour of wools, 36 ; materials for, 37 ; cure 
for puckering, 37 ; stem stitch, 37 ; satin 
stitch, 38 ; French knot, 38 ; washing, 38 ; 
antimacassar, 38 ; designs for, 40 ; conven¬ 
tional, 40; curtains, 41 ; mantel board, 41 ; 
sofa, 42 ; dress embroidery, 44 ; aprons, 46 ; 
wedding-presents, 47 ; bedroom hangings, 
47 ; passion-flower design, 47 ; wild clematis, 
51 ; bryony, 51 ; sprigs, 53 
Crochet, patterns for, 105 ; square insertion, 
105 ; diamond insertion, 105 ; Picot wheel, 
105 ; wheel lace, 106 ; narrow edging, 108 ; 
border, 109; purled lace, no; key pattern, 
no; fringed insertions, in; star, 113; 
mat, 114; ringed valance, 116; valance 
with leaves, 117 ; wool, 120 
Curried rabbit, 420 
Cushion dance, 313 
Cuts, treatment of, 299 

Damasks, 92, 99 

Darning, plain, 86. See Fancy Darning. 
Deaf-mutes, teaching of, 491 
Diapers, 91 ; birdseye design of, 91 
Dinner parties, 353 
Dispensing for girls, 493 

Dobson, Mr. A., translation of a rondeau, 
465 

Double knitting, 85 ; various stitches for, 85 
Dough nuts, 379 
D’oyleys, designs for, 56 
Drawing, study of, 481 

Drawing. See first part of Pain ting in 
Water colours. 


Drawing paper, 221 
Drawing-room music, choice of, 168 
Drawn work, history of, 125 ; designs for, 126 
Dress, embroidery for, 44 

-colour and texture in, 525 

Dresses, girls’, 528 
Dressmakers, 512 

Ear, accidents to, 303 

Education, how to improve, 470; directions, 
474 ; English studies, 475 : arithmetic, 477 ; 
English literature, 477 ; English history, 
477 > geography, 478 ; elementary science, 
479 ; foreign languages and literature, 479 ; 
music and drawing, 481 ; needlework and 
housekeeping, 483 

Egyptian cookery, 411 ; Nebabs, 411 ; vine 
leaves, 412 ; kufta, 412 ; rice milk, 412 
Elocution, 285 

Embroidery. See Crewel Work, Outline 
Embroidery: 

Endives, 382 

English literature, study of, 477 

-history, study of, 477 

-studies, hints for, 475 

Epilepsy, treatment of, 296 
Essay, how to write an, 437 
Etiquette, 343; for ladies and girls, 348 ; 
visiting-cards, 348; calling, 349 ; intro¬ 
ductions, 352 ; luncheon parties, 352 ; five 
o’clock tea, 352 ; afternoon parties, 352; 
garden parties, 353 ; evening parties, 353 ; 
dinner parties 353 ; how to address people 
of title, 354 ; bridal, 356 
Evening parties, 353 
Eye, accidents to, 303 
Eyelet holes, 34 

Fainting Fits, treatment of, 296 
Fancy darning, 89; diapers, 91 ; crossing, 
91 ; damasks, 92, 99 ; Maltese cross, 92 
Fantasias, on the choice of, 167 
Finsbury Institute, the, 539 
Fine drawing, 35, 89 
Fire-screen, design for, 57 
Five o’clock teas, 352 
Food, chemistry of, 361 

Foreign languages and literature, study of, 479 
Forfeits, games of, 307 ; ways of redeeming, 
319 

French cookery, 370 

French dishes, 382; vol-au-vent, 383 ; 
macaroni au gratin, 384; choufleur au gratin, 

384 ; tete de veau en tortue, 384 ; ramikins, 

385 ; potted calf’s liver, 385 ; pate lievre et 
de chevreuil, 385 

French knot, 38 
French recipes, 377 
Fresh air, value of, 290 


2 N 







546 


INDEX. 


Friture, la, 377 

Froebel Society, 491 

Fruits, Italian, 394 

Frying, French mode of, 371, 373 

Garden parties, 352 
Gathering, 32 
Genoa cake, 414 
Geography, study of, 478 
German cookery, 385 ; bill of fare; 387, 390; 
pickled herrings, 387 ; sauerkraut, 387; 
preserved cherries, 388 ; potato soup, 388 ; 
liver soup, 389; milk puddings, 389; 
cakes, 390; raw ham, 390; coffee cream, 
392; mustard, 392 
Ghiac, <404 

Girls’ allowances, 516 

Girls* Public Day School Company, 492 

Girlhood, 19 

Girton College, 489 

Gnat bites, treatment of, 302, 415 

Good breeding, foundation of, 343 

Guildhall School of Music, 505 

Guitar, how to play the, 194 

Guy’s Hospital, nursing at, 495 

Gymnastic exercises, 336 

Haggis, 404 

Hair-dressing, 513 

Ham, raw, German recipe for, 390 

Hamilton, Janet, the poet, 454 

Hare, potted, 385 

Harmonium, how to play the, 189 

Harp, how to play the, 192 

Hashed mutton, 420 

Havergal, F. R., her poem on composition, 
452 

Healthy, how to be, 290; fresh air, 290; 
cold, 294, 296 ; Condy’s fluid, 295 ; cure for 
offensive breath, 295 ; anaemia, 295 ; back¬ 
ache, 295 ; fainting fits, 296 ; epilepsy, 296 ; 
hysterics, 296; St. Vitus’s dance, 296 ; 
indigestion, 297 j heartburn, 297 ; neuralgia, 
297 

Heartburn, cure for, 297 
Hemming, 25 
Heroic verse, 456 
Herringbone, 31 
Herrings, pickled, 387 
Hexameter, the, 455 

Holiday afternoons, what to do on, 307 ; 
game of souvenirs, 307 ; cushion dance, 
313; game of conveyances, 316; charade, 
319; Mrs. Jarley’s waxworks, 329 
Holidays charade, 319 
Home and Colonial School Society, 491 
Hominy, 415 
Hooks and eyes, 34 

Hospital for Women, Marylebone Road, 496 


House decoration for girls, remunerative, 502 
Housekeeping, study of, 483 
Howell and James’s classes for pottery paint¬ 
ing, 5 01 

Hysterics, treatment of, 296 

Iambics in poetry, 456 
India pickle, 416 
Indigestion, treatment of, 297 
Introductions, etiquette of, 352 
Italian cookery, 392; frittata, 393 ; omelets, 
393 ; soups, 393 ; polenta, 394 ; fruits, 394 
food, 394; lesso, 395; mushrooms, 395 
meal times, 396 ; recipes, 396 

Jersey and stocking mending, 99 

Knitting, patterns for, 63 ; lozenge, 63 ; 
spaced rectangles, 64; cable, 65 ; linked 
scallop, 65; ladder, 66; for socks and 
stockings, 67 ; honeycomb, 68 ; shell stripe, 
70; baby’s shoes, 71 ; night socks, 75 ; 
brewers’ caps, 75 ; mittens, 75 
Kufta, Egyptian, 412 

Ladies’ Tracing Office, 501 
Lady Margaret Hall, 489 
Lambeth School of Art, 501 
Leaf boxes, 415 

Lee, Rev. Mr., inventor of knitting frame, 90 

Les Merveilles, 415 

Letter-writing, 432 

Lettuce for salad, 381 

Linseed oil, 262 

Literary work for girls, 438 

Literature, girls’ work in, 432 

Liver soup, 389 

Lobster, tinned, 421 

London Academy of Music, 507 

-University College, 490 

Luncheon parties, 352 

Macaroni au gratin, 384 
Marmite soup-pot, 370 
Mantles, girls’, 531 
Medicine for girls, 493 
Menus, French, 374 
Milk puddings, 389 
Mittens, knitting of, 75 

Modelling and design, classes for girls in, 502 

Mrs. Jarley’s Waxworks, 329 

Music, study of, 481 

Music, remunerative, 503 

Music case, design for embroidered, 60 

Mussels, French, cooked, 371 

Mustard, German, 392 

National Art Training School, 497 
-Training School for Cookery, 511 








INDEX . 


547 


Nebabs, Eastern, 411 

Needlework, 25 ; plain sewing, 25 ; hemming 
25 ; sewing, 28; patchwork, 28 ; seaming, 
28 ; running, 29 ; stitching, 29; use of 
scissors, 31; herringbone, 31; gathering, 
32 ; sewing on buttons, 33 ; button-holing, 
34; eyelet-holes, 34 ; running a tuck, 34; 
whipping, 35 ; patching, 35 ; fine drawing, 
35 ; study of, 483 
Needles for crewel work, 36 
Neuralgia, treatment of, 297 
Newnham Hall, 489 
Nightingale Fund for Nurses, 494 
Night socks, knitting of, 75 
North London Collegiate and Camden Schools 
for Girls, 491 

Norwegian cookery, 404 ; ghiac, 404 ; Stik- 
klespesgrod, 405 ; marinerad Torsk, 410 
Nose, accidents to, 303 
Nursing for girls, 493 

Okra, 401 

Omelets, Italian, 393 ; French, 414 
Organ, how to play the, 178 
Outline embroidery, 53; split stitch, 54; 
twisted chain stitch, 54 ; cordonnet stitch, 
54; materials, 55 ; designs for d’oyleys, 56 : 
for pianos, 57 ; fire-screen, 57 ; screens, 58 ; 
music-case, 60; book-covers, 62 

Patchwork, 28 
Paint-boxes, 265 

Painting in oil colours, 249 ; requisites, 252 ; 
how to prepare canvas, 253; colours for, 
256 ; combinations of colours, 260 ; oils, 
mediums, varnishes, 262 ; brushes, 262 ; 
palette knife, 263 ; porte-crayon, 263 ; pa¬ 
lette, 263 ; paint-boxes, 265 ; easel, 265 ; 
choice of a subject, 265 ; directions, 267 
Painting in water-colours, 203 ; materials, 203 ; 
directions for outline drawing, 205 ; how to 
determine the distance, 206 ; dividing the 
object, 206 ; proving the lines, 208 ; light 
and shade, 210; on choice of subjects, 213 ; 
sentiment in, 219 ; materials, 220 ; drawing- 
board, 222 ; directions for straining, 222 ; 
brushes, 223 ; colours, 224 ; mixing, 228 ; 
alterations, 230 ; composition of colours, 
231 ; landscapes, 234; undertone, 235; 
outline, 236 ; sky, 236 ; daylight skies, 237 ; 
twilight, 237 ; sunset, 237 ; sunrise, 238 ; 
clouds, 238 ; extreme distance, 239 ; middle 
distance, 240 ; banks, roads, buildings, trees, 
242 ; water, 243 ; composition, 244 ; prin¬ 
cipality, 244 ; repetition, 245 ; continuity, 
245 ; radiation, 245 ; contrast, 245 ; har¬ 
mony, 247 ; perspective, 249 
Passion-flower design, 49 
Patching, 35 


Paterson, Mr., his school of wood-engraving, 
5 °° 

People of title, how to address, 354 
Percy Institute, the, 540 
Pharmacy for girls, 495 
Photography for girls, 502 
Physical education of girls, 333 
Pianofortes, embroidery for, 57 ; method in 
teaching, 154; choice of pieces for, 157; 
suites, sonatas, &c., 161 ; single pieces, 164; 
variations, 164 ; rondos, 166 ; fantasias, &c., 
167 ; drawing-room music, 168 
Pickle, India, 416 

Pies, American, 399 ; chowders, 400 ; recipes, 
400 ; okra, 401 
Poem, a, how to recite, 287 
Poetry we read, the, 457 ; the triolet, 457 ; 
rondel, 460 ; rondeau, 462 ; villanelle, 465 ; 
sestina, 466 ; ballade, 467 ; sonnet, 469 
Polenta, 394 

Pope on verse-writing, 456 
Post Office clerks, female. 510 

- Directory work for girls, 511 

Pot au feu, 370 
Potatoes, fried, 376 
Potato soup, 388 

Practising music, 148 ; various styles of, 149 
Printing for girls, 510 
Puddings, French, 374 

Ramikins, 385 
Recreation, 307 

Refooting of stockings, 76; weaving, 77 ; 
grafting, 77 ; knitting by hand, 79; knitting 
by machine, 80 ; reheeling, 80 ; manufac¬ 
turer’s heel, 83; darning, 84 ; boys’ socks, 
84 

Remunerative work, 484 

Rhyme in poetry, 455 

Rice milk, Oriental, 412 

Ring on finger, how to remove, 303 

Rochester Institute, the, 340 

Rogrod, 416 

Rondeau, the, 462 

Rondel, the, 460 

Rondos, 166 

Royal Academy students, 497 

-of Music, 503 

-College of Music, 506 

St. Andrew’s, degrees for women at, 490 

St. Thomas’s Hospital, nurses at, 494 

St. Vitus’s dance, treatment of, 296 

Salad-mixing, 381 

Salads, French, 372, 380 

Salaries of girls’ teachers, 492 

Salmon mayonnaise, 419 

Sardines, tinned, 421 

Satin stitch, 38, 131 








548 


INDEX. 


Satin, how to paint on, 280 
Sauce a la mayonnaise, 416 
Sauce, recipe for, 381 
Sauerkraut, 387 
Scalds, treatment of, 299 
School Board cookery teaches, 512 
Science, elementary, study of, 479 
Scissors, use of, 31 
Scotch broths, 402 

-cookery, 401 ; recipes, 403 

Scratches, treatment of, 301 
Screens, designs for, 58 
Seaming, 28 
Sestina, the, 466 
Sewing, plain, 25, 28 
Shifting pause, the, in poetry, 456 
Silk and satin, how to paint on, 280 
Singing, 145 

Slade School of Fine Art, 498 
Smorgas, Swedish, 407 
Snails, French, edible, 371 
Socks, knitting of, 67 
Sofflet au pomage, 415 
Somerville College, 489 
Sonatas, choice of, 161 
Sonnet, the, 469 
Soups, French, 372 

South London School of Pharmacy, 495 

-Technical Art School, 500 

Souvenirs, game of, 307 
Split stitch, 54 
Sponge cake, 413 
Sprains, treatment of, 303 
Sprigs, design for, 53 
Stem stitch, 37 
Stikklespesgrod, 405 
Stings, treatment for, 302 
Stitch, crewel, 37 
Stitching, 29 

Stockings, knitting of, 67 ; refooting of: see 
Refooting of Stockings. 

Stocking mending, 99 
Story, a, how to write, 444 
Swedish cookery, 405 ; meals, 406 ; smorgas, 
407 ; recipes, 407 ; bill of fare, 409 
Swiss darning, 99 ; grafting, 101 ; Jacob’s 
ladder, 102 ; web-stitch, 102 
Suite de pieces, 161 

Surgery, hints on, 298; cuts or wounds, 299 ; 
bitten tongue, 299 ; bleeding, 299 ; scalds 
and burns, 299 ; bruises, 300; blisters, 
300; boils, 301 ; bites and sciatches, 301 ; 
stings, 302; choking, 302; bodies in the 


eye, nose, and ear, 303; to remove ring 
from finger, 303 ; sprains, 303 

Tarts, French, 374 

Teachers’ Training and Registration Society, 
491 

-Syndicate, 491 

Teaching for girls, 489 
Tete de veau en tortue, 384 
Thimble, for crewel work, 36 
Tic-douloureux, treatment of, 297 
Tinned meats, 417 ; menu, 418 ; salmon 
mayonnaise, 419; hashed mutton, 420; 
curried rabbit, 420 ; asparagus, 420 ; sar¬ 
dines, 421 ; lobster, 421; delicacies, 422 ; 
brown roux, 422 
Tomatoes, 382 ; recipes for, 400 
Tongue, bitten, treatment of, 299 
Trinity College, 505 
Triolet, the, 457 
Tuck, running a, 34 
Twisted chain stitch, 54 
Type-writing for girls, 511 

Variations, choice of, 164 
Varnishes, 262 

Vegetables, French mode of cooking, 373 

Venison, potted, 385 

Verbarium, 339 

Verse-making, the art of, 449 

Villanelle, the, 465 

Vine-leaves, rolled, 412 

Vinegars, French, 373 

Violin practice, 150; how to play the, 17- 

Visiting, etiquette of, 349 

Vol au vent, 383 

Washing crewel work, 38 
Water-colour, painting in, 203 
Wedding presents, 47 
West Central Collegiate School, 491 
Westminster Hospital, nursing at, 495 
Whipping, 35 
Winter cloaks, girls’, 530 
Wood-carving for girls, 499 
Wood engraving for girls, 500 
Wool crochet, shawl stitch, 121 ; ball crochet, 
121 ; spotted crochet, 122; tricote, 122; 
coiled treble, 124 ; tunisien, 124 
Wools for crewel work, 36 
Work for all, 484 
Wounds, treatment of, 299 


























































































































